Assassins Creed Rising
by MMAssassin
Summary: A follow on from Assassins Creed New Generation. The Assassins have declared war against the Templars. From spending ten years running from the Templars they now are hunting and killing them again. New Allies, enemies, technology and secrets may give them a way to finally end the war that has raged since the dawn of time.
1. Chapter 1

Michael walked briskly through the dark suburban streets. His breath rose in a mist illuminated by the streetlights. He loved winter in Scotland he'd always been weird like that. His heart beat rapidly from the exertion and excitement of stalking his target all day. Again he tensed his right arm feeling the warm leather of his hidden blade against his flesh. Michael turned a corner, stopping suddenly as his spotted three men silhouetted by a streetlight. Michael retreated behind the corner again. He had recognised one of the silhouettes, Martin Salisbury, a drug dealer and Michael's target. Michael poked his head around the corner again noting the subtle, almost imperceptible, head and hand movements that indicated a drug deal.

'Spotted him.' Michael muttered, seemingly to himself.

'Keep on him.' A voice crackled through an earpiece, 'we'll take him tonight.'

The man finished their transaction and walked away. Martin looked around suspiciously and walked toward a nearby housing estate, followed by Michael. Ian and Michael had been stalking their target for three days. The man was a low level Templar enforcer. His side gig was of little concern to his Templar masters as long as their less than savoury activities in Glasgow ran smoothly. Michael and Ian had been sent to remove him.

Ever since the attack on the Abstergo research facility three months ago and their declaration of war against the Templars, the Assassins, for the first time in ten years, had been aggressively hunting the Templars. Before the Assassins in Britain had been content to wait for orders from the high command to target and kill specific Templars. Now Brendan and Sarah were identifying Templars on their own initiative and sending their colleagues to hunt them. Before the Templars had arrogantly dismissed the remaining Assassins in Britain as an annoyance not something to be considered seriously. This had changed since the attack, it was proving impossible for the Templars to identify and capture the Assassins. Michael and the rest had been hunting and killing Templars all over the country, striking in one area and moving rapidly to strike in another. They had been cutting off the Templars eyes and ears everywhere. This was Michael third target in as many months.

The first had been a corrupt town official further North, the second a medical doctor with less than ethical practices. Danielle and Dave were hunting in another part of the country and had taken out a similar number of Templars. It had become more and more difficult to move around, the Templars, using their connections in high politics, the police and army, had declared the attack on the research facility a terrorist act and had brought in a raft of new security measures such as passports being checked on the borders between Scotland, England and Wales and random spot searches. These, on top of the measures in place to control and stop the spread of the plague that had swept through Africa a few years back made life very difficult. Protests and demonstrations took place almost daily all over the country, even a few small riots. Brendan and Alex were trying to get close to the organisers of these protests and use them to the advantage of the Assassins.

Michael often despaired from the magnitude of the job in front of them, the people were trying to rise but were being fed false information and kept down by an increasingly aggressive and vicious police force backed the army all under the control of the Templars. Emma and George constantly encouraged him, they were both recovering in the Homestead and kept him company whenever he returned from a mission. Sarah, having recovered a huge amount of information and blueprints from Abstergo, had been living nearly constantly in the garage. Long periods of silence were broken occasionally by thumps, bangs and other assorted sounds of construction and even the occasional small explosion. Michael grinned as he thought about the memories from the past few months and refocused on his target as he turned down a small alleyway between two houses. Michael followed him into the dark and spotted a third walking in the opposite direction. Michael increased his pace to catch Martin. His footfalls became louder, Martin turned and spotted Michael. Michael snarled and the faint click indicated his hidden blade popping out from his wrist.

'Assassin.' Martin hissed.

Michael darted forward but had his right hand grabbed. Michael head butted Martin but connected awkwardly with Martins forehead rather than nose. Michael stumbled back momentarily as Martin drew a knife and slashed at Michael who leapt back. Martin slashed again, fury in his eyes but Michael grabbed his knife wielding hand and stabbed towards his neck with his hidden blade. Martin leaned back and suddenly went rigid and made a huffing sound as the air was driven from his body. The third figure stood right behind him, his left hand on Martins right side. Michael stepped back watching the blood slowly seep from the wound in Martins side.

'I had it under control.' Michael said calmly.

Ian looked at Michael, mildly annoyed as he lowered Martins body to the ground.

'You gave yourself away too early, don't rush a kill like that, he wouldn't have gotten away.' Ian scolded.

Michael bit back a retort and retracted his hidden blade.

'You're right, I'm sorry.' Michael said.

Ian looked at him, more understandingly this time.

'You're a good fighter just impatient.' Ian said simply.

Michael bent down over Martin and began searching his pockets.

'What are you doing?' Ian asked suspiciously.

'Spoils of war.' Michael smiled holding up a wad of money.

Ian glared as Michael pulled small packets from his pockets, pills, cocaine, heroin and marijuana.

'What are you going to do with that lot sell it?' Ian asked scathingly.

'Nope' Michael answered walking to a nearby drain and dumping the pills and powders.

'I'm keeping the weed.' Michael said smiling.

Ian rolled his eyes.

'Come on back to the safehouse.' Ian ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael woke suddenly to the shrill beeping of the alarm. He groaned and reached out slowly clicking it off. It was a cold bright morning as Michael made tea and sat in front of the television in the small kitchen of the Assassin safe house. He could hear Ian shuffling about down the hall before drowning him out with the morning news.

'...another series of protests last night in the Egyptian capital last night turned violent as the military, under control of the interim government, opened fire on protesters. This was in response to earlier attacks on isolated garrisons in Cairo by rebels.' The news anchors sweet voice sugar coated the bitter news as pictures of bloodied and injured civilians flashed up on screen.

Michael growled as he ate. Assassins were doing their best to stop the violence breaking out across the Middle East and try to limit and control the damage and influence the Templars were inflicting on the West. The Templars, according to Brendan, had instituted a new grand strategy in the past few months that had resulted in the collapse of several economies such as Greece, Ireland and Spain and were stirring discontent in the Middle East resulting in a stand-off between the U.S. and its allies on the one side and China and Russia on the other. They were pushing the globe to a new war and the Assassins were too demoralised and weakened to stop them.

'Another series of protests and strikes in Spain have led to the near complete shutdown of all transportation in the country resulting in travel chaos and the resignation of many of the country's leading politicians and the call for a vote of no confidence in the government.'

Ian stalked into the kitchen wearing his customary early morning scowl and poured himself some tea.

'Any good news?' Ian asked.

Michael snorted.

'Not as many people have died as last night.' Michael responded with false cheeriness.

Ian grunted in response.

'Gather up everything I told the boss we'd be back before lunchtime.' Ian ordered.

'Right so cap'n.' Michael answered.

They drove in near silence for most of the way back to the Homestead. Michael reflected on the journey how at ease he felt with Ian and, indeed, all of his fellow Assassins. From feeling like an outsider they now all felt like family. He had hunted, fought and killed along side them for months, nearly dying on one or two occasions only being saved by his brothers and sisters. He felt like he finally belonged and this was reflected by the ease in which he and Ian shared the silence in the car.

Finally the homestead came into view. Smoke fluttered from the chimney inviting the weary Assassins home. Ian parked the car around back as Michael shuffled through the front door.

'Hello anyone home?' He called.

'You're back!' A female voice yelled from the kitchen.

Michael just had time to throw down a bag of equipment he'd been carrying as Emma barrelled into him hugging him tightly.

'Hello to you too.' Michael said, a warm ball of excitement growing in his stomach as he held her closely.

She pulled away inspecting him for injuries and smiling when she saw none.

'I've been so bored!' She whispered conspiratorially.

Michael grinned. Brendan and Alex had insisted their niece rest for a few months and not go on missions after her capture by the Templars. She had been put into a machine called an Animus which according to Sarah had been used to view the memories of her ancestors. The very idea both repulsed and fascinated Michael and he felt a guilty curiosity about what it felt like. He had spent a lot of time with Emma and had grown very close to her since then. He liked her a great deal and was nearly sure she felt the same way but it was difficult to ascertain exactly how she felt about him as they spent so much time in close quarters with the others or gone on missions.

Michael wondered even if they did manage to become an item how it would work with the life the lead. Even worse if they did manage to get together and then it fell apart how it would affect their lives as Assassins. It was a tough decision Michael had never felt the anything like what he did for Emma. He expelled those thoughts temporarily as he entered the kitchen to find Brendan receiving a report from Ian.

'Michael, it's good to see you again.' Alex said entering the kitchen through the back door.

'Dave and Danielle back yet?' Michael asked sitting down.

'Not yet, they'll be back later. Sarah wants a meeting for some reason. Something to do with what she's been building in the back.' Emma said sitting beside Michael.

'I'm intrigued.' Michael said.

'We all are. She's hardly been out of that garage, barely sleeping or eating. It's ridiculous.' Alex said sounding scandalised.

Emma made a face and Michael suppressed a grin.

Ian and Brendan stopped whispering and Brendan met Michael eyes and winked.

'Nice to see you back in one piece.' Brendan said.

'Nice to be back boss.' Michael answered cheerily.

'From what Ian told, you're improving but are still a little impatient.' Brendan stated.

Michael sobered and hung his head.

'I'm sorry for that I gave myself away before I should've. I promise it won't happen again.'

Brendan nodded understandingly.

'I know Sarah wants all of us gathered later on for her little announcement but I've tasks for you all. It's going to be a busy few months.' Brendan said solemnly.

Emma's head perked up at the possibility of finally being allowed to leave the Homestead again.

'I've been busy for the past few months, meeting prospective allies and sounding out groups and organisations we may be able to infiltrate and help.' Brendan explained. 'It's going to take a lot of work but with the way things are globally and nationally we may actually have a chance to seriously hurt the Templars.'

'I relish the opportunity.' A deep voice growled from the doorway.

'Hey George.' Michael greeted him cheerily.

George favoured him with a friendly nod as he sat down.

'How're you?' Michael asked.

'All healed up and ready to go.' George responded happily.

He had been shot twice during their rescue of a scientist's son three months ago and had been out of action since. Every time Michael visited him he had asked for every little detail of the missions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone I didn't expect to write a second story but New Generation sort of just evolved. I got new ideas I couldn't fit into the first and so this was born. As an historian myself I find the idea of the Animus fascinating and I'd like to try and explore that a little more. I really appreciate all the views and reviews I get from you all it's brilliant. As before I, unfortunately, do not own Assassins Creed or the idea of the Animus. All the characters are my own. **

The afternoon and evening passed quickly as the Assassins talked, ate and caught up on events with each other. Sometime later Dave and Danielle arrived back; they looked tired and weary from their mission and their journey from further south. The sun had begun to set darkening the kitchen and the warmth from the stove made Michael sleepy. He felt relaxed surrounded by his new family and at ease for the first time in about a week.

'Wakey wakey.' Emma taunted poking him in the face.

'Ow.' Michael yelped straightening up in his seat.

The back door clattered open and Sarah, looking slightly haggard and wild eyes at the same time, burst in.

'Hi everyone, ready to go?' She asked.

'Go where?' Dave inquired.

'I just need to everyone out in the garage for about half an hour.' Sarah responded.

Michael grinned at how jumpy she seemed. Clearly she'd been using caffeine rather than actual sleep to stay functional for the past few days.

The Assassins trooped out of the kitchen one by one, through the yard into the garage. Michael liked it in here it was full of weaponry and explosives as well as Sarah's equipment. It had an ordered kind of chaos about it that Michael enjoyed.

'Sarah what is this?' Emma asked nervously spotting the strange illuminated chair hooked up to several keyboards and monitors.

'It's my version of Abstergos animus.' Sarah answered proudly walking over to the nearest monitor.

'Why? What?' Emma asked shocked.

'I know what they did to you with this technology was horrible. But used correctly with a willing subject imagine what we could do with it? What we could learn?' Sarah asked excitedly.

'I was reading their files. They thought by using this machine they could train their agents to fight like us in a fraction of the time it would normally take...' Sarah began.

'...at what cost?' Brendan intoned, 'what are the side effects?'

Sarah looked at him; silent for a moment.

'Mike and I saw what Abstergo had done to one of our own using that infernal machine.' Brendan growled.

'That won't happen.' Sarah insisted, almost pleadingly.

'Over exposure will cause what's called a bleeding effect. The memories and personalities of the ancestors will meld into the subject if the subject is kept in the machine for too long.' Sarah answered, 'with careful monitoring there is no reason that should happen.

Brendan continued to look angrily at the machine.

'I made several improvements, safety features that will shut down the machine and sever the links between the subject and their ancestors if they're kept in for too long. The benefits far outweigh the risks Uncle.' Sarah argued.

'How so?' Brendan asked.

'Imagine if we could see the lives of the older Assassins how they fought the Templars? It could show us new tactics and strategies. We could train new recruits far more quickly and most importantly give us an insight into real historical events. Stuff we could use to fight the Templars tainted view of history.' Sarah said passionately.

Brendan furrowed his brow.

'I just don't know.' He said exasperated.

'I volunteer.' Michael said.

The group turned and looked at him.

'I don't know how much use I'd be but I'm curious. Ever since I start reading that library we have I've developed an interest in history I want to see the actual events.' Michael insisted.

Brendan looked at him worryingly.

'Let me do this boss please.' Michael pleaded.

Sarah's face visibly brightened with the prospect of a willing subject. Emma looked nervous and non-committal. The rest hung back watching the scene unfold.

'Fine. But if anything goes wrong get him out of that bloody machine quickly.' Brendan ordered.

Michael smiled and sprang forward.

'Ok I need you to sit down.' Sarah said, 'we're going to hook up a blood pressure monitor to you and a pulse gauge to make sure you're ok I'll be monitoring your vitals the whole time. This first time will just be to scan you and see if you've any interesting ancestors ok?'

Michael, sitting in the machine, nodded nervous and excited as he was hooked up.

Sarah walked over to the monitor she had been standing by earlier.

'Ready?' she asked.

'I was born ready.' Michael answered cockily.

The jolt was sudden like an electric current shooting through his system. Strange numbers and text floated across his field of vision. Faces, places, seemed to lunge at him. It was strange he felt as if he knew these unusual faces and had been to these places. As soon as it had started it was all over. His vision cleared and his immediate surroundings came back into focus.

'That was quick.' Michael said groggily.

'Just a quick scan. I'll go over what I extracted and call you back if I find anything interesting ok?' Sarah said.

Michael sat up.

'Are you ok?' Dave asked nervously.

'Yeah I feel fine.' Michael answered smiling.

'Any other volunteers?' Sarah asked.

'Me.' Dave said.

'Me.' Danielle piped up.

'It doesn't look so bad.' George reasoned.

Sarah beamed at her fellows as Brendan huffed.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed quietly. Brendan and Sarah, when she had some free time from working on the scans she had taken off her fellow Assassins, researched the names and locations of Templar agents. Meanwhile, Michael and the others trained. For the past few months Michael had been sent on missions constantly honing his skills in real situations. With George out injured Michael's skills had also ceased to grow. That changed now.

Michael woke with the others at dawn, it was a struggle to extricate from his warm bed and get up into the cold winter morning to train. Very often the only thing that sustained him through the excruciating sessions was the thought of a massive bowl of Alex's porridge. After a few days he's arms and legs felt lighter, his strikes faster. He was pushed to his limits and beyond them. After three weeks he felt stronger than he ever had in his life.

After training one morning they were gathered in the kitchen as Brendan walked in. He looked exhausted and worn down. Stubble covered his face and he had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Michael looked up from his breakfast and furrowed his brow in concern.

'We've managed to identify several new targets. The Templars have had ten years to grow unchallenged. They've recruited a large number of important individuals throughout the country from a variety of sectors. Everything from politicians, bankers, lawyers right down to street thugs and drug dealers. We're going to hunt down every last one of them.' Brendan said sitting down.

'What's the plan exactly?' George asked.

'We obviously can't go after the higher ranking Templars.' Brendan said regretfully.

'We'll start from the bottom up; hit the lower level guys and the ones that don't have the same protection. Cut them down from the ground up.' Brendan growled smiling. 'Remove the infrastructure they've built. Replace theirs with ours.'

'What do you mean?' Emma asked.

'We've contacts down south. Old contacts that supported us when we were strong. After the purge when we were driven underground so were they. They're waiting for a chance to take back what they once had and we're going to help them.' Brendan answered smiling.

An uneasy ripple went through the gathered Assassins.

'George, Dave and Mike are going to head to London. Emma, Ian and Danielle I want you to go to Liverpool. We start hitting the Templars there they'll be too distracted to come after us directly.' Brendan ordered.

Michael looked over at Emma who stared back.

'Ok everyone, you heard the man lets gear up.' George ordered.

Michael and Dave moved sluggishly. It was going to be a very long mission.

Dave and Michael loaded up one of the cars with everything they would need for a long mission down south; weaponry, surveillance equipment and Michaels personal favourite the explosives. Ian, Danielle and Emma prepared a second car as Brendan and George discussed the respective missions by the door. Michael tried his hardest not to think too hard about how long they may be gone and avoided looking at Emma as best he could.

'Ready to go?' George asked.

'Everything is loaded up.' Michael answered flatly.

George looked at him peculiarly.

The Assassins stood around momentarily.

'I know this is a big undertaking. One of the largest we've attempted in many years. Remember we have to do this. We have to hit them as hard as we can or they'll come after us.' Brendan said solemnly. 'We've to distract them, show them we won't hide and allow them to hunt us. We will make them afraid of us.'

They all nodded determinedly.

'Make sure you all come back.' Brendan ordered.

They looked at each other, the full weight of the tasks set out before them becoming apparent. George clapped Ian on the back as Dave and Michael hugged Danielle and Emma respectively.

'Take care of yourself.' Michael said fiercely hugging her tightly.

'I will. You too.' She answered quietly her eyes glowed with tears.

Rain clattered heavily against the windows of the car. They spoke intermittently about sport, books and films keeping the conversation light. Michael yawned and grew stiff sitting in the back seat as George drove. The view alternated between heavily built up cities and green countryside that reminded Michael of home. Finally the unique skyline of London floated into view. The sun dipped on the horizon silhouetting the sparkling city lights. Michael grew nervous and excited. He had visited London when he was younger, he liked the city. Each building, each street was imbued with history stretching back well over two thousand years. He loved it the sense of being part of that walking amongst it and its people.

They drove through the city, over the Thames passed the famous tower. Michael watched the city go by with unabashed fascination. They drove into Brixton where the city gave way to suburbs. The air of history and grandeur flowed into dilapidation and neglect. They took lefts and rights that left Michael confused to the actual direction of the city centre before stopping outside a rundown block of flats.

'Home sweet home.' George said sarcastically.

'You are joking right?' Michael said.

'What did you expect the Hilton?' George asked.

'No but...not...this.' Michael said shocked, 'It seems...very...insecure. To say the least.'

'Just wait.' George said grinning.

They each took a box full of equipment from the car and walked into the building. The lights flickered menacingly and it smelt like stale urine. The walls were covered in graffiti and stained in things Michael didn't like to guess. Michael continued to have a confused near scandalised look on his face as they climbed the stairs.

They stopped outside an entrance to a hallway. Michael glanced through the small window in the door and it looked like it was jammed shut from the inside.

'Well isn't that just fantastic.' Michael muttered sarcastically.

'Just watch.' Dave said smiling.

George took what looked like a remote from his pocket and typed in a code. The door whirred, Michael recognised the sound of surprisingly heavy metal lock tumblers opening. The obstacles on the other side of the door moved with it as if they were attached to it.

'Very clever.' Michael said impressed.

They continued down the hallway. It smelt slightly better than the one downstairs and didn't have any graffiti on the walls.

'Hurry up this box is bloody heavy.' Dave complained.

'Calm down.' George said.

He moved to the door number 407, putting down the equipment he'd been carrying slid out his knife and inserted it into a light switch beside the door. Flicking it open revealed a keypad.

'Very clever.' Michael said again.

The door opened revealing a large clean apartment. Michael walked in slowly marvelling at the place. The kitchenette stood immediately to the right and opened out into a living area with a couch, T.V. and two desks. A hall led off to the bathroom and three bedrooms.

'This place is awesome.' Michael breathed.

'A relic of when we were more powerful.' George said wistfully setting down a box.

'Come on let's get the rest of the gear. We've got a lot of work to do.'


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone for reviewing this work particularly will zona and mike of the dead I really appreciate the reviews. **

They brought the last of the equipment up from the car and organised the place. It took them an hour, mostly involving heavy lifting to get the apartment in an ordered state. Michael sat down at the raised table as they finished up. George stood admiring their work pensively.

'What now?' Michael asked.

George looked up startled out of his reverie.

'We've to go see an old friend of the Assassins.' George grinned. 'Gear up.'

'We're gearing up to see an 'Old friend?' Michael asked moving to one of the equipment boxes and popping it open.

'I'm not sure how happy he'll be to see us.' George said grimly, checking the clip of a weapon he pulled from a box.

'Wonderful.' Michael muttered sarcastically.

Michael strapped two knives to his calves, took and loaded two guns and two belts of throwing knives. George and Dave equipped themselves in a similar manner before leaving.

'Tell me about this guy.' Michael asked as they piled into the car.

'Rupert Harris, this guy is old style, east end gangster he came up in the eighties. He was vicious and violent but no more than what he had to be.' George began.

'Sounds like a charming fellow.' Michael said dryly.

'You've to understand Mike; the Creed we follow ensures that we think the best of human nature. This guy Rupert, while not exactly an innocent upstanding guy has a sense of honour and loyalty, our order recognised this. A lot of the scumbags at the time were majorly into importing drugs, weapons, prostitution. Really bad shit. Rupert tried to work things in a way which ensured he made a profit but kept the worst stuff off the streets Heroin, crack and the like, refused to import boys and young girls to work in brothels only employed of age women. Treated those businesses he took protection from fairly. Other gangsters, some of them Templar supported, acted without any scruples whatsoever.' George explained.

'So the lesser of two evils then?' Michael reasoned.

'These things drugs, prostitution, are as old as human civilization itself. The Templars seek to outlaw them completely. We know this just isn't possible, it's human nature, you tell someone they can't have something they're going to go out of their way to make sure they get it.' George explained.

'So we should just legalise all this nasty shit?' Michael asked. 'I'm all for legalising weed but cocaine, heroin? No fucking way.'

'That's not necessarily what I mean. That stuff should be kept illegal, but people will still try and get it. What we do is make sure the stuff that does come into the country, the damage it does, is kept to a minimum, work with gangsters who don't import underage kids into brothels, who don't cut drugs with soap powder or rat poison. We hope, we work towards the day that people as a whole say 'ok we've tried all this stuff and it isn't nice let's stop doing it' rather than forcing them to stop or allowing all sorts of scumbags to keep bringing in this stuff and mixing it with god knows what and ruining lives.' George explained.

'Makes a twisted sort of sense I suppose.' Michael responded.

'Anyway Rupert is an honourable man, despite what he does. He is someone we can work with.' George continued.

'Then why do I feel like a walking armoury?' Michael asked sceptically.

'The last time I met him was in the middle of the purge, we didn't know who to trust, ours and his were getting picked off like flies. Our last meeting was raided by Templars. He might think we gave him away.' George said grimly.

'Oh wonderful we're going to meet a violent gangster who may or may not think we betrayed him.' Michael said disbelievingly.

'Remember whatever he says keep your head and don't speak unless spoken to.' George ordered.

'Hmmm...ok.' Michael answered unhappily.

Sometime later they pulled up outside a grimy and depressing looking out theatre in East London. A steady rain beat against the windows as Michaels stomach squirmed nervously.

'Ready?' George asked cheerfully.

Michael grunted and got out of the car. Dave shot him a look as he exited the car adjusting one of his blades.

They walked down an alley beside the building and came to a solid look black door with an eye slit.

'Cliche much?' Dave asked sarcastically as Michael grinned.

George looked at them sardonically as he knocked. Michael took note of the dull bang George's fist made against the door. It was made out of a heavy metal and would probably take a bazooka to blast down.

The slit slid back revealing a pair of dark eyes staring out at them.

'Who the fuck are you?' A voice demanded.

'We walk in the dark to serve the light.' George answered solemnly.

'What the fuck are you...' the voice started.

Michael could make out the faint mummer of whispering.

A bolt on the inside was undone and the door opened.

'Thank god for that.' Michael thought stepping in out of the soaking rain.

They entered a small back room a table stood to the left just inside the door and another door led off to the rest of the building opposite them. George stood looking around pleasantly at their hosts, a large black gentleman stood surveying the scene with a sawn off shotgun in his hands another man stood closer to the far door looking menacingly at their guests. Dave looked nervous and twitched but Michael knew better he was planning how to kill the both of them if it came to it. Michael fought the impulse to engage his hidden blade.

'The boss says we've to search you.' The man closet to the far door said in a strong cockney accent.1

'Do what you have to do.' George said politely.

Both men advanced and began to frisk the new arrivals. They looked shocked as they extracted guns, bombs, blades and other assorted weaponry from the three new arrivals. A small pile was put on the table. Michael smiled, they had managed to get only one of his knives and he still had a belt of throwing blades. He took tell by the expressions on this comrades faces that they too were still armed.

'All done?' George asked happily.

The large black man grunted and they were led through the far door into a narrow hallway which had several other doors leading off of it.

As they walked Michael reflected on the ridiculousness of the situation. These two grunts clearly weren't that well trained. They simply didn't know their business. Michael was only a novice in the order but George was a full Assassin and Dave was on the verge of being promoted. One of them alone could have taken out both these guys without sweating. Michael hazarded a guess that even he could probably take one of them out.

They stopped outside a particularly worn looking door on which one of the Assassins new friends knocked.

'Come in.' A voice called loudly.

The five men entered into a cramped office. It smelt of stale tobacco and alcohol. It was full of files through all over the place, porn magazines and posters littered the place. Michael suppressed his disgust and walked further into the cramped office. The man sitting at the centre of this chaos was not what Michael expected. He was a short stocky, bald headed man in an impeccable white suit which didn't quite contain his bulldog cheeks. He didn't appear to have a neck and his nose looked like it had been broken so many times it had turned into a mushroom on his face.

'Rupert.' George greeted him holding out his hand. This gesture wasn't reciprocated.

'Sit.' Rupert growled. He nodded and his men left the room. Michael and Dave searched for a way to make themselves comfortable in the clutter.

They sat in silence for a few moments surveying each other.

'It's been a long time Rupert. How are you?' George asked.

'How the fuck do you think I've been?' Rupert spat. 'Ran out of a business, friends and family murdered and forced to hide like a fucking rat in a city I owned?!'

'We're here to change that.' George answered calmly.

'Change it?! How the fuck can you 'change it'? Last time we met turned into a bloodbath I lost a nephew and a son-in-law you fuck!' Rupert growled. 'All because you Assassins couldn't get your shit together.'

'That wasn't our fault, we lost friends too and family.' George said becoming more annoyed now.

Michael could hear faint footsteps outside and his hand slid to the belt of throwing blades hidden in the small of his back.

'We're here to make amends.' George continued. 'We're here to take the fight back to the Templars. To help you take back what was once yours.'

'Oh yeah? And how the fuck do you propose to do that?' Rupert asked sitting forward menacingly. 'Do you have any idea what the situation out there is like? These young guys their vicious, no respect they kill families, kids, wives, blow up cars, houses. They've cops on the payroll. I've been ducking and dodging for ten years. Gone from running the whole city to dealing dime bags and cheap pornos in crusty cinemas like this one.'

'With your help with can hit them back. Give us names and we'll give you back territory.' George growled. 'Don't you want revenge? Or have you spent so much time running and hiding like a coward you forgot what it's like to fight like a man?'

'You fucking son-of-a-bitch! How fucking dare you?' Rupert roared going for a gun in his desk.

The door blew open and Rupert's two henchmen came in one with a cricket bat and the other with his sawn-off. Michael and Dave sprang forward blades in hand. George had a gun trained on Rupert's head before he could level his weapon.

Michael stood stock still a throwing blade raised and ready. Dave kept a small pistol trained on the men who had burst in the door. Everyone stood perfectly still not willing to move.

'Help us like you once did, we'll get revenge for your family. We'll take back what was yours together.' George pleaded not breaking eye contact with Rupert for a second.

Michael glanced over and he saw Rupert blink and lower his weapon.

'Alright.' He ordered. Rupert nodded at his men who lowered their weapons. Dave and Michael followed suit.

'Everyone calm down.' George ordered lowering his weapon as Rupert's men went back into the hallway.

Rupert fidgeted with his hands as he considered his next answer.

'I can't give you many names. I don't know how many men they have. The guy running things, a young thug, Robert Taylor, a little bastard if there ever was one. You won't be able to get at him directly. He has dozens of dealers throughout the city. Last time a pair of junkies robbed one of his dealers. Not only did he hunt them down had them beheaded and dumped in the river he had the dealer who allowed himself to be robbed executed as well...'

'We grab a dealer get names off one of them.' Michael thought aloud.

Both Rupert and George looked at him.

'A new boy?' Rupert asked.

George nodded tightly.

'Who I can give you is Philip Turner, weasely little shite, hangs out at a pub called the Carpenters arms around here. He'll have the names you need.' Rupert said.

'Thank you Rupert, you've my word this is just the start, get what people you can together and get ready. Things are going to change around here.' George promised as he stood to leave.

Rupert rose and offered George his hand.

'I hope you're right.' Rupert said sadly.

1 I debated about trying to write the cockney accent phonetically but I thought that would just be confusing for all concerned, especially me.


	6. Chapter 6

They drove in silence through East London, through the mind boggling maze of streets as Dave typed their targets name into the tablet he carried.

'Philip Turner, convicted for Grant Theft Auto, breaking and entering, possession of drugs and...oh lovely sexual assault of a minor.' Dave listed off.

'He's going to die.' Michael growled.

George said nothing and continued to drive.

They spotted hanging outside the pub with three friends, none of them looked, what Michael would call, gangsterish, still appearances could be deceptive.

'How do we do this?' Michael asked.

'Guy's a dealer too, up for buying something off him? Should get him on his own and we'll grab him.' George said.

'Why do I have to do it?' Michael asked.

'Because I said so, and you've got that Irish charm of yours.' George grinned.

'Fuck off.' Michael said sweetly getting out of the car.

Michael passed Philips group as he entered the pub. He hated to admit it but he sorta missed hanging around in bars with his friends it took him back to being at home. He pulled up a stool and ordered a pint which he drank quickly. Michael made his way to the bathroom, buying a pack of cigarettes in the machine outside the gents and went back to the bar to order another pint. He ordered another pint and swept the bar, Philip was still outside. Michael finished his second and went outside.

Philip and his group of friend still stood outside chatting, drinking and smoking. Michael extracted a cigarette and searched for a lighter in his pockets not finding one.

'Shit,' Michael breathed just loud enough for Philip to hear. He glanced towards Michael.

'Sorry don't suppose you've a light?' Michael asked politely.

Phil looked annoyed but handed over a lighter.

'Thanks.' Michael said taking it and sparking up before handing it back.

'No problem.' Philip said with a polite nod.

'Pain in the arse having to smoke out here.' Michael said trying to engage him in conversation.

'Yeah.' Philip said shortly glancing at his friends.

'Pity it's not Amsterdam you can get away with anything over there.' Michael continued.

'Listen mate you want something or what?' Philip said losing his patience.

'That depends. What have you' Michael answered coolly.

Philip looked at him annoyed.

His friends walked back into the bar.

'How do I know you're not a cop?' Philip asked suspiciously.

'Would a cop be half drunk on the job?' Michael asked blearily. Those pints he gulped back went straight to his head.

'Alright come on.' Philip said walking to an alley a little way down from the pub.

Michael followed.

As they reached the end of the street and turned a corner George and Dave pulled up.

'What the hell is this?' Philip yelled turning to run.

Michael grabbed him as George leapt out of the car and hit him knocking him unconscious.

Michael and George tied Philip up and bundled him into the boot1 of the car.

'That was the worst approach into a drug deal I have ever seen.' George said amused.

'Excuse me for not being more experienced in buying drugs.' Michael said dryly.

They drove back to their safehouse in Brixton. The dark hid them as they moved Philips unconscious body up the flights of stairs to their floor and deposited him in one of the rooms that had been converted into a holding area beside their apartment.

'Which one of us is going to get what we need out of him?' Michael asked.

George and Dave both looked at him.

'No offence mate but I don't think you quite know what you're doing yet in that regard. I'll cover it.' George said.

The three of them entered the empty flat beside theirs. Philip was tied to a chair in the centre of the room which was lit by a single hanging bulb.

'Very Reservoir Dogs.' Michael thought to himself amused.

'Philip.' George sang softly smacking him awake.

Philip shook himself and shot awake. Looking around himself rather than looking scared he looked angry.

'Do you know who I am? Who I know?' He demanded.

'Yes yes we do numbnuts that's why you're here.' George grinned kneeling opposite him.

'You fucking idiots are fucked when he finds out. He'll hunt you down and tear your balls off.' Philip spat.

'Tut tut such language instead of exhausting yourself like that why don't you give us names and addresses of all the dealers, brothels and bookies that you know of and we'll let you walk out of here. How does that sound? George asked pleasantly.

'Fuck. You.' Philip stated.

'I asked nicely.' George said.

The first punch made Michael twitch the dull meaty crunch of bone against flesh. Philip nearly toppled over. George started hammering him with blows into Philips head and stomach.

Every blow reverberated through the room. Michael found himself reminding himself that the man they were torturing was a scumbag, that he deserved this. Michael twitched despite himself as he the blows landed. Michael stood flanking the door on one side with Dave on the other. It took every ounce of self control Michael possessed not to leave the room. George worked over the Templar landing crunching punches to his head and stomach. George hit Philip so hard at one point he vomited all over himself. After that George moved on. George took out a case which he opened to reveal a selection of stiletto blades and pliers. Philips head rose blearily and he started to struggle helplessly when he saw the glint of the steel.

'Please, please no.' Philip said through a mouth full of blood and vomit.

George said nothing and clamped the pliers onto one of Philips fingers. Michael closed his eyes but couldn't shut out the deafening screech.

'Names now.' George growled holding the bloodied fingernail aloft.

'Please no, I can't. They'll hunt me down. They'll kill me.' Philip pleaded.

'I will kill you now if you don't.' George threatened.

A whimper escaped Philip's lips.

'What makes me wonder is, throughout history I mean. There's always been the idea of bad versus evil. Look at World War Two the Nazis were the bad guys and the Allies good. How does that hold up to historical scrutiny? I'm not saying the Nazis were good. They were the most evil cruellest monsters ever. What I'm saying is the Allies were no better. The British, how many millions did they kill building their empire, how many tens of millions of Native Americans were wiped out when the U.S. pushed west? To you we're the bad guys to us you're the bad guys. It's a matter of perspective I suppose. My point is don't think I'm a knight in shining armour that won't do horrible things to you. This is only the beginning you little worm. Tell me what I need to know or I'll make you beg for death.' George growled grabbing Philips throat.

Michael watched tears slowly seep down Philips face as he realised, one way or the other he was a dead man.

'Richard Taylor, Robert's brother, runs the protection racket for him, Dominic wood, runs the smuggling side, Brian Riordan deal with the bookies and race fixing, and Martin Thomas runs the brothels. Each have six or seven other guys under them.' Philip spoke as quickly as he could.

'Excellent, Dave you got those?' George asked.

Dave was scribbling on a notepad by the door.

'Yup.' He answered.

'That's a start.' George smiled turning back to Philip.

1 Trunk


	7. Chapter 7

Michael watched George slice digits and whole digits off Philip. He extracted other names of lower ranked dealers, locations and addresses. Dates of imports and movements of money, drugs and people. Dave had left the room to research the names that had already been given. Michael was tempted to follow. He watched George tear Philip apart physically and mentally. Watched him break. Michael had lost all sense of time after what felt like hours the sun finally started to brighten the room. They had extracted all they could from Philip. Michael could see he was on the verge of death. Blood dripped steadily and quietly to the floor. Whole fingernails, fingers, toes and parts of fingers and toes lay scattered around Philip.

George was covered in blood his arms hung wearily at his waist.

'I just wanted respect.' Philip breathed quietly.

George walked away and put one of the stilettos back in the case and returned to Philip. Michael heard the faint click of George's hidden blade being engaged.

'You've done well the information you've given us will help us topple your Templar masters.' George said.

'Make it quick.' Philip asked.

George moved in front of Philip blocking Michaels view. When he moved back Philips head hung limply. He was dead.

George walked out of the room with his head hung low. He and Michael walked into the main apartment. Dave was working at one of the desks. George went and took two beers from the small fridge as Michael sat at the table. George sat heavily and sighed. Michael looked at him. George's eyes met his gaze.

'We do what we have to do.' George said simply.

Michael nodded and sipped his beer.

'La shay' haqiqah koulo shay' moumkin.' George said.

'What?' Michael asked.

'Nothing is true. Everything is permitted.' George explained.

'Our Creed.' Michael said.

George nodded.

'It is an irony of our creed that we pursue peace by committing violence and murder. But our Creed explains our actions. We can pursue one thing by doing the opposite simultaneously. Our Creed is not dogma simply an observation about how the world truly is.' George elaborated. 'Do not judge the things we do, do not judge yourself too harshly. What you do, what we do, is for peace.'

Michael shifted in his seat.

'Gentlemen.' Dave said walking up and deposited a stack of papers in front of both of them. It was a collection of pictures, dates and locations of the targets Philip had just named.

'We're going to hit them all, hit everything, take every last cent from them and then kill them.' Dave said gleefully.

Michael looked over the documents. Richard Taylor was a stocky dark haired man, his eyes were dark and he wore a scowl. His brother was listed as being over six foot tall with similar facial features. Dominic Wood was a bald headed man with rodent like features and a face Michael wanted to smash in. Brian Riordan was a large man verging onto obese his pig like eyes stared out of the paper. Martin Thomas was a blonde headed man tall and thin Michael could smell the sleaze coming from him.

'Each of these men has about half a dozen others under them. Those are these others names listed beside theirs. We take them out we break their organisation. We can start replacing theirs with Rupert's guys. We hit their bookies, their dealers, hit their money couriers.' Dave explained.

Michael looked at the seemingly vast list, the dozens of men and a few women who had to die. He gut squirmed nervously the sense of the task being insurmountable began to creep up again.

'We will be able to accomplish this. We have thousands of year's worth of knowledge and training passed down to us and more importantly we fight for something we love. Not even freedom but our family our brothers and sisters. We will make them die and die painfully or they will hurt us. I will not allow the Templars to hunt our people anymore.' George growled.

Michael looked at his captain and then to Dave and they both nodded determinedly.

Michael walked slowly around Regents Park taking in the cold January air he met very few people which he was thankful of. He wore a neck gaiter that covered the lower part of his face. He was hunting one of Dominic Woods' dealers. A lower level guy new to the organisation who had really yet to prove himself. George thought it would be a perfect way for them to begin and assigned Michael to do the job, his first solo kill. Michael stopped for a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting off the small boating lake. Michael turned and started walking again. He'd been hunting for about three hours now and still had no sign of his target. Michael swore to himself he wouldn't go home until he killed the bastard regardless of how long it took.

Michael walked on leisurely, unconsciously checking his hidden blade. He spotted a man loitering in a shaded spot and smoking a cigarette.

'Bingo.' Michael thought.

Michael walked casually and sat down on a nearby bench. Michael made eye contact with his target who walked up to the bench and sat down.

'Can I help you?' He asked quietly.

'That depends.' Michael said tersely.

'Come on don't waste my time.' He said impatiently.

'A twenty bag.' Michael asked.

Michaels target put his right hand into his pocket. As he Michael struck driving his hidden blade into the guy's side. He reacted and tried to punch Michael who blocked the blow and drag the dealers hand down. Michael drove his hidden blade right into the dealer's chest and twisted. Michael held the blade there until Michael felt the fight go out of him. Michael looked around quickly. There were no witnesses Michael breathed heavily trying to relax. He searched the dealer's pockets quickly finding a small amount of cash and some drugs. Michael got up and walked away dumping the drugs into the nearest bin1. Michael dialled a number on his phone.

'Done.' Michael said.

'No witnesses?' George's voice asked.

'None.' Michael confirmed.

'Good got back here ASAP.' George ordered.

Dave and Michael sat in their car outside a restaurant in West London. The street lay, for the most part, deserted. They watched were a figure squirm about under a Bentley. George popped his head up from under the car, stood and walked back to the Assassin filled vehicle.

'And now we wait.' George said.

The Assassins were waiting for two of Richard Taylor's lieutenants. Two nasty enforcers who weren't averse to using people's families as bargaining counters. The Assassins did not have to wait for long before they and two more of their associates emerged from the small Italian bistro. They walked to their car slowly with the gait of men who had just enjoyed a large meal; they laughed and joked amongst themselves as they sat into their vehicle. Michael watched in morbid fascination.

The explosion made the windows in the Assassins car shake despite the distance they were parked from their target car. Parts of the car flew in all directions, alarms of cars and businesses were set off.

'Two more down.' Dave said.

1 Trashcan.


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the week passed quickly the Assassins struck repeatedly in different parts of the city killing dealers. Rupert's men helped them dispose of these bodies and Philips body. Rupert's men also ran inference between the Templars seeking information about their missing and murdered men and the Assassins. Michael slept mostly during the day and hunted and tracked at night. He had intermittent contact with the Homestead and with the other Assassins in Liverpool which reassured him. He missed them greatly and this made him even more determined to finish his mission quickly.

'Mike!' George called one late afternoon from the main living area.

Michael groaned and extracted himself from his bed. He had been out until six that morning. Tracking a particularly violent dealer back to his house where Michael had killed him.

'What?' Michael asked sleepily arriving in the main living area.

'I've a present for you.' George said happily.

Michael looked up from the table where Dave had deposited a cup of tea in front of him.

It was a brand new hidden blade. The leather was shiny and new and it smelt of polish.

'What'd I do to get this?' Michael asked confused admiring his new blade.

'Engage it.' George ordered.

Michael put the weapon on and tensed his arm causing the blade to shoot out.

'What's this? The blade looks weird.' Michael said bewildered. The normal hidden blade was a thin but very strong silver blade. This one looked like it had a glass vial built into it.

'It's a poison blade.' George explained seriously, 'the blade is hollow and it has a small amount of very potent poison in the vial. One prick of this is enough to kill a fully grown man inside of two minutes.'

'Oh...' Michael said nervously who had been admiring the blade closely and moved it away from him.

'We have a target especially for you.' Dave said putting a file in front of him.

'Why me?' Michael asked.

'Because I said so.' George explained.

Michael looked at his fellows sardonically and inspected the file. A Linda Talanenski; trafficked from Eastern Europe to work in a brothel run by the Taylors when she was young. Worked her way up and now was one of their main dealers specializing in a higher level of clientele.

'She'll be in one of the more upscale clubs tonight which is where you'll get her.' George explained.

Michael groaned again.

'I hate clubs...'

'We put your name on the guest list of this place you should feel privileged.' George teased.

Michael shot him a dark look causing him to chuckle.

'Remember all you need to do is prick her, she'll barely notice and then get away quickly.' George elaborated.

'Yeah prick her good and hard.' Dave said barely suppressing a chuckle.

'Shut up.' George said lightly. 'Ready Mike?'

'I suppose so.' Michael said wearily exiting the car.

They were parked around the corner from the club. The neon of the various bars and smaller clubs were blinding. Michael manoeuvred around the groups of young people out having fun and others who were extremely drunk and got in line.

'I.D.' The large gorillaesque bouncer grunted.

'I'm on the list, Michael MacCarthy.' Michael answered.

The bouncer muttered into an earpiece and nodded allowing Michael to walk passed him. He entered a long tunnel from which he could hear the beginning thrums of the loud music inside. He came to a window in the wall where a cashier pointed to a sign that said twenty pounds entry. Michael silenced a disgusted grunt and handed over a twenty. It was money they'd taken from dealers but still it was the principal of the thing. Michael walked through a second door and into a maelstrom of loud music and blinding flashing lights. A bar stood to the right with a dance floor right in front of the door and a second bar to the left of that. A set of stairs led to another floor with another dance floor and bar. Michael could see the whole club from that vantage point. He made his way through the writhing and dancing crowd to the stairs.

'Bottle of beer!' Michael yelled at the non-comprehending bar man.

'Goddammit.' Michael muttered to himself pointing to the rows of bottles in the small fridges behind the bar.

A look of dawning comprehension crossed the bar man's face and to Michael's eternal gratitude a beer was placed in front of him. The bar man held up seven fingers. Michael silently cursed again and handed over the money.

Michael walked to a balcony overlooking the main part of the club and searched the crowd. It took three sweeps before Michael spotted a tall, black haired woman in a red dress sitting in a booth with two men. His target. The group laughed and drank exchanging whispers. Michael watched them closely from his perch trying to figure out how to get close to her without seeming suspicious.

The two men got up from the booth and disappeared. Michael watched the smile fade from his targets face replaced by a weary look off boredom. Michael watched her closely; it struck him that she seemed unhappy. She took a deep drink from a tall glass in front of her, winced and indicated to a person nearby to get her another. This was put in front of her and she drank it quickly.

The menace around her left her then. Michael saw her for what she was; a woman forced into a life she didn't choose trying to make the best of it and get by. She would still die Michael decided but he would harbour no hatred towards her as he had done with his other targets.

Her 'friends' came back and she rose up to join them as they made their way to the dance floor. They danced energetically Michael kept his eyes on them as he made his way to the dance floor. He checked his hidden blade feeling the comfort of the leather against his skin. He gently moved slowly and indirectly through the crowd towards her. Dancing as best he could staying inconspicuous, being mindful of his surroundings. He stopped short of her and danced, he glanced at her as she moved; he admired how she danced and engaged his hidden blade moving slightly closer. One little nick would be all it would take. He lifted his arm and moved slightly closer.

A body bashed into Michael throwing him back.

'What the fuck?!' Michael said.

Two men had decided to start a fight in the middle of the dance floor. Michael could see the bouncers moving in through the crowd to separate them.

'Shit.' Michael muttered trying to extricate himself from the brawl. The people in the immediate vicinity had cleared an area and watched the two men fight yelling encouragement. Michael circled the group carefully and managed to get behind his target who was watching the brawl. He moved forward quickly, eager to finish the mission so as not to allow something else to interfere. The blade clicked silently drowned out by the music of the club, the bouncers had reached the brawling men and were wrestling to separate them. Michael brushed the blade against the skin of his targets right arm, leaving an almost indiscernible scratch. By the time she turned Michael was long gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Michael woke the next morning refreshed. George and Dave had picked him up and congratulated him on a successful mission. He marched into the kitchen to the sound of the news.

'A woman collapsed last night in a central London nightclub, she was brought to Kings College hospital where she was pronounced dead on arrival. The cause of death at the moment has been attributed to heart failure brought on by the presence of illicit substances in her system...' The news anchors voice detailed the woman's death in a cold detached voice.

Michael wasn't sure why but that annoyed him. A person's life summed up in a thirty second annoyed explanation.

'Morning Mike.' George said eating cereal at one of the work stations as Michael poured himself some tea.

Michael nodded.

'What's up?' Michael asked.

'We've got problems.' George said seriously.

Dave appeared from the hallway looking tired and haggard.

'What problems?' Mike asked nervously.

'A few things. Apparently the Templars are using their connections in the police to hunt us rather than using their underworld connections. We've to do something about that or we're going to end up in prison and then a Templar holding cell. To add to that I got a message from Brendan, we're running low on supplies, weaponry and such if we're going to continue this war we've to get some bigger guns and more of them.' George explained.

'What's the solution?' Mike asked seriously.

'Rupert has given me a name, Terrance O Hanlan. He's an inspector in the London Metropolitan police. The guy hasn't advanced as quickly as most of his fellows; he's honest, hardworking and not a Templar. As far as we know he's the only one in the locality who isn't a cop in Templar pay. We're going to meet with him.' George said.

'We're?' Michael asked sceptically.

'Yes we are.' George responded.

'Would it not be a little intimidating, not to mention risky for the three of us to go meet this guy at once?' Dave asked.

'We need to get this guy on side, only way to do that is to be up front and honest and let him meet the whole crew at once.' George explained.

Michael and Dave exchanged a sceptical look before nodding.

Michael and George waited in the car as Dave visited the Police to arrange a meeting with their new friend. Michael watched as Dave crept around the corner of the station. The plan was to sneak into the station through the roof and leave instructions for Terrance to find. Hopefully he would meet at the pre arranged time and place. Dave arrived back in the car mission completed and they pulled away.

'We've a few hours to kill until the meet time. What's the plan?' Dave asked.

'They're moving a large sum of money by courier this afternoon, we're going to hit the courier and take their money.' George said.

They drove through London to a warehouse on Cannon Street and parked up down the street.

'You pulled the times and dates they move their money didn't you Dave?' George inquired.

'Yup should be moving it in the next fifteen minutes.' Dave answered.

'What's the plan?' Mike asked.

'We wait, we watch, we follow when they leave, when they stop we shoot them down and take the money.' George explained.

'Sounds overly simple to me what about witnesses?' Michael asked worriedly.

'We'll have our faces covered and we can change the licence plates on the car.' Dave elaborated from the back seat.

Sure enough fifteen minutes later a motorcycle drove out from the warehouse gates.

'Here we go.' George said following him.

They drove through the city making sure they didn't lose sight of their target but not being too conspicuous either. Traffic moved quickly and fluidly which both annoyed and surprised the Assassins. Michael's stomach squirmed nervously, Dave loaded a gun in the back seat and put on a ski mask George lifted the collars of his coat and checked a .38 he had in his pocket as he drove. They began to slow as they hit some traffic at a set of lights. Michael took a bandana from his pocket and tied it around his face, he checked his weapon as he spotted the motorcycle a space ahead of them in the traffic. The lane on the right got a green light which George pulled into and drove forward earning angry honks from those drivers behind him. George pulled the car to a stop beside the motorcycle earning another salvo of angry honks.

'Now!' George ordered angrily.

Michael and Dave lowered their windows and took aim at the black clad driver and fired twice each riddling him at point blank range. The bullet riddled driver fell off the motorcycle which also fell.

'Get the money.' Dave said.

Michael got out of the car, the honks from other cars nearest had stopped as the people in them sat in shocked silence at what had just happened cars further back in the queue which couldn't see what had happened started to honk loudly. Some of those who had been walking by were screaming. Michael was only vaguely aware of all of this the noise seemed to be coming from a badly tuned radio as he extracted a large bag of money from the storage space in the bike and sat back into the car. George sped away twisting and turning through a collection of side streets and alleys. Michael sat numbed in the front seat the bag of money weighing heavily on his lap.

They kept driving until they hit the outskirts of the city and pulled into a deserted and run down industrial estate. George and Michael counted the money while Dave changed the plates on the car.

'One million, seven hundred and thirty-two thousand pounds.' George announced finally after finishing the count.

Michael had never seen so much money in his life, he was more used to Euro's but even this staggered him. It seemed to ridiculous people fought and died over little pieces of paper like this.

'This should be a nice boost to the coffers.' George grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

They waited in the industrial estate for the rest of the evening and watched as the sun fell casting an eerie light across the run down warehouses.

'Dave get up into a vantage point and cover us in case our new friend decides to bring along company, Mike stay here with me.' George ordered as the meet time drew closer.

Michael watched in silent admiration as Dave scurried up the wall of a building opposite.

'I've to spend more time working on my climbing.' Michael said almost to himself.

'You'll get it; years ago you would've spent years training before you would have been allowed on a mission.' George responded.

Before Michael could answer a blue sedan came around the corner. Michael could see only one figure in it.

'Here we go.' George said.

Michael detected a faint trace of nerves in his voice.

The car pulled to a stop a few feet from them and the figure emerged. Michael was shocked with a name like O' Hanlan Michael had been expecting something different. The man who faced him and George was well over six foot with a dark complexion. Michael guessed Terrance could have picked up George without much difficultly if he chose to.

Terrance nodded at both Assassins warily.

'Inspector, it's a pleasure to meet you, my name is George Macpherson, this is my brother Michael MacCarthy.' George greeted him.

'Brothers? You don't much look like brothers.' Terrance said gruffly.

'We are not brothers by blood but by a bond just as deep.' George answered sagely. 'We are Assassins.'

Terrance became visibly nervous looking. Michael noticed his hand slip closer to his belt where no doubt he kept a weapon.

'What Assassins?...Like contract killers? Are you lot insane?' Terrance questioned angrily.

'We are Assassins, we are not mindless thugs or contract killers, we are members of a brotherhood whose history stretches back beyond the imagination of ordinary men. We are an order dedicated to the preservation of human freedom and the attainment of peace in all things.' George elaborated.

'What are you some kind of new age hippie organisation?' Terrance asked mockingly.

'We seek peace through freedom, we are a clandestine organisation who have fought for time beyond measure against those who would take free will and rob us of what makes us human. Have you ever heard of the Templars or an organisation called Abstergo?' George asked.

Terrance's brow furrowed.

'What Templars? Like knights from the crusades?' He asked confused.

'They once were knights, their organisation, like ours has gone through many changes and names throughout its history.' George responded.

'I have heard of Abstergo.' Terrance said quietly.

George glanced at Michael.

'How? How did you hear about them?' George inquired nervously.

'We raided an office block belonging to a shipping company who we believed to be importing drugs into the country. We found manifesto's and shipping documents for machinery for a company called Abstergo, a few days later the documents went missing and the case we had against the company's director collapsed.' Terrance said bitterly.

'Haven't you wondered why your colleagues seemed to have been promoted ahead of you? Others less deserving than yourself given perks and more tolerance than you?' George probed.

'I believe in the law, I believe in doing what is necessary to ensure ordinary people are kept safe.' Terrance said fiercely.

'Ah, and that's why you did the thing you did when you were younger?' George asked.

Terrance looked at him shocked.

'How did you know?' Terrance asked shocked.

'Our friend here, when he was a young constable, took the law into his own hands. A junkie raped and robbed a schoolgirl; he hunted the junkie down and beat him into paralysis.' George said speaking to Michael.

Michael glanced at Terrance whose hands were curling and uncurling into fists.

'So that's the plan blackmail me is it?' Terrance asked angrily.

'Absolutely not, we admire men and women who stand up for what is right no matter what. We want you to join us, help us, help us fight the Templars give back this city to the people take back the city from the scumbags and their Templar masters.' George implored.

Terrance stared at George confused.

'We're offering you a chance to ensure the rule of law returned to this city, not Templar law, we're offering you the advancement you deserve, we're offering you protection from the Templars, the chance to truly do what you need to make this city safe.' George pledged.

'I'll do it.' Terrance answered quietly. 'What do I need to do?'

'You will not be a full Assassin, but you will be externally associated to us, we will inform you of our movements, our intended targets, in return if you have information on targets we have or new targets you will pass them onto us, we will protect you ensure the Templars do not have a way of striking at you, we will ensure, through the deaths of these Templars, men and women who have eroded justice, that you will advance.' George promised.

George removed a mobile1 phone from his pocket and offered it to Terrance.

'This is our way of keeping in contact, it cannot be bugged and it is secure.' George promised. 'The first thing we need you to do is deflect a search for us, three men who have been killing drug dealers in this city.

'Those murders...you've been committing them?' Terrance asked.

'Templar men working for the Taylors; men and women who deserve to die.' George answered grimly.

A more determined look came across Terrance's face.

'The Assassins believe that if one death can dramatically improve the lives of thousands, if dozens of deaths can improve the lives of hundreds of thousands, if hundreds of deaths can improve the lives of millions, then so be it, we do not do things by half.' George explained.

Terrance nodded.

'I'll do what I can.' Terrance promised.

'Then you have our gratitude. Welcome to the Assassin brotherhood.' George smiled.

1 A cell phone.


	11. Chapter 11

The Assassins rose early and piled into their car. Michael sat in the front beside George as they drove North-East. Dave yawned in the back as they snailed through the morning traffic. They pulled to a stop opposite a vast military barracks on the outskirts of London.

'You two wait here.' George ordered.

George exited the car and marched towards the barracks. He inspected the main gate casually and disappeared around the corner. Dave jumped into the driving seat beside Michael in case they needed to make a speedy getaway.

'Do you know how to drive Mike?' Dave asked conversationally.

'I was taking lessons before I joined up, need to finish that out.' Michael responded.

'We'll have to teach you in case the day comes when you've to be the driver.' Dave said thoughtfully.

'Reckon he'll be long?' Michael asked.

'I honestly don't know.' Dave replied.

'Reckon we'll be long?' Michael asked quietly.

'What do you mean?' Dave said confused.

'We'll this mission take much more time?' Michael questioned.

'Getting homesick?' Dave inquired, an amused edge creeping into his voice.

'A little...' Michael responded warily.

'Look Mike I know it's difficult being apart from everyone, especially her, centuries ago no Assassin was allowed to have a relationship, thankfully that changed under Altäir. If it's any consolation its funny how obviously the two of you make it that you like each other and do nothing.' Dave said.

'I know...it's just...' Michael began.

'How would it affect your lives as Assassins, would it work, what would happen if it feel apart I know.' Dave said wearily.

'How did you know?' Michael asked.

'My parents were both Assassins.' Dave answered. 'My paternal grandparents were both Assassins; in fact my father's family going back centuries were Assassins. My Mothers parents were an interesting couple too. My grandfather was a code breaker for the Allies in World War Two. My grandmother an O.S.S.1 spy who worked with Yugoslav rebels. That's when they first made contact with the Assassins. After the war, after my mother was born they became more involved in the Assassins; helping keep the Cold War blowing up into an East/West conflict. My father was an Assassin born and bred, my mother joined the Brotherhood as soon as she was old enough, and after a few years they met, got married and had me. It was hard when I was young, mum and dad were gone a lot of time, either individually or together on missions. Brendan and my grandparents help raise me. Even through the purge, when things were at their most dangerous, everyone stuck together. My grandfather, my father's father, was murdered during the purge, my mother's father died of old age. My father's mother died later of grief, and my mother's mother is still alive, she has a nice place on Cornwall down south. When the dust settled my parents retired down there too.'

'I'm sorry about your grandparents, they sound like fascinating people.' Michael said quietly.

Dave brushed Michael's apology aside.

'My point is Mike, we Assassins, we fight for things like freedom, family, love, regardless of how difficult something is, if you truly care for someone you can make it work. It won't weaken you it'll make you stronger, fight harder. My grandparents and parents taught me that love is the thing that truly separates us from the Templars.'

Michael nodded thoughtfully.

'Dave thanks.' Michael said.

'Don't worry about it.' Dave said dismissively.

They spotted George re-emerging from around the corner.

'What's up boss?' Dave asked as George entered the car.

'I found him; he was a bit shocked to see me but agreed to meet.' George answered.

'Excellent when and where?' Dave asked.

'Cafe nearby in an hour let's go.' George ordered.

The three of them were seated in different parts of the small, sterile cafe down the street from the barracks. Dave sat just inside the door with a newspaper and a coffee watching the comings and goings of its patrons. Michael sat close to the counter, keeping an eye on the back of the cafe and nearer to George who was sitting close to the wall on the right hand side of the cafe, Michael sipped tea and checked his hidden blade and took comfort from the .45 strapped to the small of his back.

They waited for an hour, not interacting with each other and watching those that came and went. Finally an average looking man with thinning light brown hair in army fatigues came in the door. Spotting George, he walked over to him and greeted him warmly. Michael sat near enough that he could overhear their conversation.

'George, it's been a very long time.' John said quietly.

'John you've no idea how good it is to see you.' George replied.

'It's been seven years, seven years since you shot Brody, and then went A.W.O.L. without anyone knowing where you went, no contact nothing.' John hissed.

'I'm sorry about that, what happened when I got home, the...consequences...they were things I had to deal with myself I couldn't involve anyone else.' George responded.

'Leanna and I, we'd no idea where you went, we thought you'd shot yourself or something.' John hissed.

'How is Leanna?' George asked.

'Fine she's...no don't change the subject what the hell happened to you?' John pressed.

George sighed loudly.

'After I came back, people...they came looking for me, retaliation for what happened in Afghanistan. They came into my apartment and tried to kill me.' George explained.

John's face widened into a look of shock.

'I was saved, by an Assassin.' George continued.

'A what?...Assassin? Like the guy sent to kill you saved you?' John asked confused.

'No...The men sent to kill me...do you remember the red cross that was on Williams body?' George inquired.

'What? No? Well vaguely. Why?' John asked sounding harassed.

'William Brody was a Templar; the men who were sent to kill me were Templars.' George explained.

'What like a bunch of guys who dress up like knights at the weekend and do all sorts of fucked up initiation shit?' John asked sceptically.

'No, they are a secret organisation, they have members in Parliament, in the army, police, everywhere. All over the world.' George answered seriously.

'And they sent an Assassin to kill you?' John asked sceptically.

'You don't believe me?' George asked a hint of frustration in his voice.

'I have heard from you in seven years and you sneak into a military base to ask me to meet me to tell me you've spent the past seven years running from...Templar Assassins?' John seethed.

'For the last time the Templars sent men to kill me, An Assassin saved me.' George elaborated. 'To pay him back, to ensure I'd be safe, to get back at those who tried to kill me I became an Assassin.'

A look of frank disbelief crossed John's face.

'You're an Assassin?' He said.

'The Assassins are an organisation that has existed since the dawn of time. We protect humanity from the Templars who desire to subjugate all humankind and take their freewill. I am not the only one.' George explained nodding at Dave and Michael who both nodded back.

A nervous look crossed John's face. Michael spotted him checking his exit routes.

'What do you want?' John asked angry now.

'Look john, mate, we were close, closer than brothers at one point, all those missions we ran together with all the boys, the nights out when we'd time off the visits to each other's families. I know the way I left wasn't fair on you or Leanna or anyone but I had to do it.' George implored.

John's face softened.

'Could you have not stayed, whatever happened, we would've sorted it.' John argued.

'It's not that simple, we couldn't have stood up to the Templars alone. The Assassins, the protected me, trained me, taught me to hunt and kill Templars. Dave, Michael and the others they're my brothers now and I need your help to protect them. Trust me please, what I did I did to protect you and Leanna.' George responded.

John fidgeted nervously.

'What do you need?' He asked quietly.

'Gun's.' George replied.

'You are fucking joking.' John responded.

'You're quartermaster at the barracks yeah? I'm not asking you to smuggle them out I'm asking you how to get a hold of some. A truck we could hijack or something.' George asked.

'Hijack a military weapons shipment? Are you fucking high?' John asked incredulously.

'We know that Templars in this country are getting their weapons in, big guns and lots of them we need to know how and where from so we can stop them.' George responded.

John looked lost for a moment.

'I've been noticing something weird in the manifesto's I get when new shipments arrive. Smaller amounts of stuff arriving than what we need they fobbed me off with excuses like budget cuts and typo errors. I was warned not to look too closely into it. I got curious and one night I went down to Dover, we were meant to get a large delivery of new assault rifles from France. I follow the truck and it goes to this warehouse in the docks in central London and unloads, what must've been half the load before continuing on.' John said.

'Give us the address, we'll get those guns and out them to better use.' George promised.

John looked around at Michael and Dave who were doing their best to make it look like they weren't paying avid attention to their conversation.

'I hope you lot know what you're doing.' John said as he wrote out the address.

'Don't worry we do.' George reassured him.

John handed George the address.

'Make sure you keep in contact, she'd like to hear from you.' John said.

'I'll do my best I promised.' George pledged.

1 Forerunner of the C.I.A.


	12. Chapter 12

George and Michael sat in a black B.M.W. opposite the entrance into the West India docks in Central London. It was a dark overcast night perfect for this type of work. The only light was cast by the harsh streetlamps. There were plenty of shadows left for the Assassins to move in. They watched Templar thugs patrol inside the gate and others surveyed the area from the tops of containers.

'Are you sure about this George?' Dave's voice crackled over George's earpiece.

'I'm counting about seven guys in total.' Dave continued.

'We've got a similar number here.' George replied.

'Those are only the one's we can see. There's probably more in the main warehouse.' Dave said concerned.

'So?' George asked testily.

'So we're outnumbered and outgunned.' Dave replied annoyed.

'We don't run from Templars anymore. Time was this would have been easy for Assassins. The Templars would have run from us. We need those weapons.' George growled.

A sigh echoed over the earpiece.

'I'm just saying...' Dave said resigned.

'Get into position.' George ordered. 'Are you ready?' George asked Michael.

'Ready.' Michael muttered loading a .45.

George drove the car away from the main entrance to the docks off the main road into a side street. The docks were protected by a thin wire fence. The Assassins exited their car; George carried a large wire cutter which he snipped the fence with creating a space large enough for a man to crawl through. Both he and Michael made their way slowly through the maze of container crates stopping every now and again to listen for the tell tale footfalls of Templar men. George and Michael moved about in the shadows. Michael had, as a child, despised the dark, now it gave him a feeling of comfort and relief. They spotted a Templar standing high on two stacked containers blocking their way forward. Beyond him Michael saw a Templar surveying the docks from a high tower. Michael saw his head move watching all that moved. Michael spotted a black figure scurrying up the ladder of the tower. Michael saw the figure attack the Templar, silent and swift the Templar died.

'In position.' Dave whispered.

George nodded at Michael.

Michael jumped up and grabbed the top of the first container and pulled himself up moving into the shadows of the second container where the Templar stood. The Templar moved to the edge right above where Michael stood concealed by the shadow. The Templar moved back to the other end of the container. Michael glanced down spotting two more Templar men underneath the container if he killed the one on top those beneath would spot him. He saw George move behind the two men on the ground. Michael needed to kill the one on top of the container quickly. Michael stamped the container, the Templar, hearing this moved right above Michael again. He checked his surroundings, spotting nothing confused and annoyed he turned around again. Michael leapt up on the second container and drove his hidden blade into the Templar as George struck taking out the two others on the ground floor.

Michael dropped to his stomach on top of the container before he was spotted; George dragged the bodies of the Templars he had killed into the shadows.

'Take out as many Templars as you can find.' George ordered over his earpiece disappearing into the maze of containers. Michael climbed down to ground level again and moved to his left closer to the main entrance as George cleared the area closest to the docks proper.

A templar stood on another container, two stood just between the large containers in the area of bright light where Michael couldn't get at them.

'Little help.' Michael whispered.

Michael watched the Templar on top of the container fell heavily, both Templars on the ground looked up as Michael ran forward hidden blade extended and a knife in his other hand. He drove his hidden blade into the Templar on the right, the one on the left turned Michael drove his left hand into the Templars face, his fingers into jammed into the Templars eye sockets blinding and distracting him, Michael followed this by driving the knife into the Templars chest and finishing him with a strike from Michael's hidden blade.

'Thanks.' Michael muttered disappearing into the shadows again.

Michael moved towards a large open area in front of the main warehouse a Templar stood sentry smoking. It would be very hard to approach him quietly.

'Fuck it.' Michael thought running forward.

Just as Michael reached him he turned Michael kicked out viciously aiming at the Templar's knee. Michael shin connected with the Templar's joint blasting it out of place. Before the Templar could yell Michael drove his hidden blade into his throat, tearing a massive hole in his neck. The Templar died twitching with blood frothing from his mouth. Michael picked up his body, dragging it to the edge of the dock and dumped him into the water. Michael moved back to the warehouse and hid around the corner from the door into the office area of the warehouse.

'What's happening?' Michael asked.

'Get ready to move in.' George ordered.

'I'm around the back.' Dave whispered.

Michael moved to the door and knocked he retreated back around the corner as two Templars exited the building. Michael raised his silenced .45.

'Hello.' Michael said cheerily firing four times hitting his targets; one into the lead Templars chest another into his head and the same for the second. Michael moved forward into a small non-descript office. He moved slowly and silently, sticking close to the wall with his weapon raised. He moved into a hallway off from the main office stopping outside a door that led into the warehouse proper. Michael prepared to go through as the lights switched off. Michael heard men shouting and then whispering in the main area.

Michael smiled as he took, what appeared to be a peculiar pair of glasses from his pocket; they illuminated the darkness in a greenish light. Michael silently thanked Ian's and Sarah's ingenuity as he moved forward. He spotted a group of six men in the centre of the room all armed. Michael spotted a bald headed, rodent featured man scowling with a gun raised.

'George you seeing this?' Michael whispered excitedly.

'Dominic Wood, looks like we got lucky boys.' George muttered.

Michael moved forward hiding behind a stack of wooden crates. Michael spotted Dave moving into position opposite him.

'Come out you Assassin scum!' Wood yelled brandishing his gun.

'Ready?' George asked.

Dave moved out into the open and fired hitting one Templar twice. Michael did the same from the opposite direction hitting and killing a second Templar. Both Assassins ducked into cover again as Templar bullets whizzed and pinged off the steel pillar Michael hid behind. Four more Templars remained Michael engaged his hidden blade and prepared to dive into the centre of them. Michael closed his eyes, allowing himself to focus on his breathing, slowing it down. He rushed out from behind the steel pillar and ran directly at the Templars who were firing in every direction. Dave appeared from the other side both he and Michael reached the group of Templars simultaneously, each impaling one with their hidden blades. Michael moved preparing to attack his second Templar when a figure dropped from above spearing Michael's target and killing him instantly. George turned as all three Assassins targeted the last remaining Templar, Dominic Wood was shaking his gun raised aiming at the shadows. Michael hacked Dominic's hand slicing through the bone and tendons, Wood screamed as his partly severed hand dropped his gun, Dave drove his hidden blade into Woods' side as George drove his into the Templar's chest.

The lights came back on after Dave flicked a switch on a small remote he was carrying.

'Assassins!' Wood breathed as he writhed on the floor, blood pumping from his wounds.

Michael watched the Templar die, Wood fell staring at the now bright ceiling, empty shell casings and the blood and bodies of his men surrounding him. He coughed and gurgled as blood frothed from his mouth.

'They'll hunt you like the dogs you are and tear you apart.' Wood threatened as he died.

'Rest in Peace you piece of shit.' George growled kneeling and closing the Templars eyes. George moved away from the corpse and back towards the exit, the lights switched back on and George returned grinning.

'We hit the mother load here.' Dave said in amazement pulling the canvas off a stack of boxes. Dave wedged his hidden blade into a space and wrenched the crate open revealing a collection of handguns packed in straw.

Michael moved towards another stack of crates picking up a crow bar and wrenching the crate open. Michael's eyes widened as the crate was filled with Spaz 12 shotguns. George searched the bodies of the fallen Templars as he comrades searched the warehouse. M.P. 5's, M-16's, M-4's, Frag Grenades, different types of handguns.

'The hell?' Michael asked confused opening a crate of strangely proportioned knives.

'Wow careful.' George yelled leaping towards Michael and grabbing the knife out of Michael's hand.

'What?' Michael asked shocked.

'Be careful with that.' George cautioned. 'Look.'

George raised the knife but pointed the handle at the wall. George put a finger through a hole separating the handle from the blade and squeezed there was a bang as a metal projectile shot out of the handle and lodged itself in the wall.

'What the hell?' Michael asked amazed.

'Ballistic knife.' George explained. 'Be careful.' He cautioned again.

'Guys look what I found.' Dave called gleefully from the far side of the warehouse.

Michael grabbed another ballistic knife which he sheathed and followed George over. Dave stood beside a large white van which had several large black sports bags on the ground. Michael got closer and saw three or four more loaded in the van.

'What?' George asked.

Dave stood up and turned revealing a bag full of money. Michael's eyes widened in amazement as he tried to guess how much money they had just found. The Assassins stood frozen for a moment.

'Load everything up.' George ordered, 'I'll bring our car around.'

It took them three hours to load everything into the van and whatever else they could into the car before driving back to their safe house. Michael sat beside Dave in the van.

'We finally have a chance.' Michael thought happily.


	13. Chapter 13

The Assassins rested for a few days following the attack on the docks. Rupert's men helped them move the money and weapons into their safe house the following night. Resting allowed the attacks and killings the Assassins had committed to really begin to have an effect. Rupert, with the Assassins permission, began to install his own men into the territories the Assassins had taken from the Templars. The Assassins waited as Terrance fed the Templars false information and steered them away from the Assassins. The Templars, angered by the loss of one of their main men hunted the Assassins more aggressively, supplied by information from Terrance and backed up by Rupert's men saw the Templar attacks coming, George killed a man who had been following Terrance, Dave left a knife embedded in the bedpost of a judge who had strong Templar connections, a warning to tell him to withdraw his support from his Templar friends. Michael executed two Templar enforcers who were preparing to strike at Rupert's men on the streets. The Assassins were doing what they had set out to replace the infrastructure the Templars had built with one under Assassin control.

The difference the Assassins were making began to manifest itself, the atmosphere on the streets of the city changed. They felt safer, the Assassins hunted and killed Templar men with increasing frequency. Enforcers, dealers and couriers died daily as the Assassins, backed by Rupert's men, wiped them out.

Michael arrived back to the safe house late in the evening after spending the day meeting with a journalist who had been investigating the murders around the city, through a mixture of threats and charm Michael had gotten him to drop the story. Dave was working at one of the desks in the living area and George was out meeting with some of Rupert's men.

'Mission successful.' Michael said grabbing a beer from the fridge.

'Mmmm.' Dave muttered absentmindedly.

The lock rattled open as George threw himself into the apartment looking around wild eyed.

'What's up?' Michael asked concerned.

'Both of you get your gear. One of Rupert's guys spotted Martin Thomas going into a strip club in the city.' George said excitedly going to get equipment.

'We're just going to walk into a club and assassinate a Templar?' Michael asked shocked.

'No of course not.' George smiled back.

'Then what?' Dave asked confused.

'You two are going to get in a fight.' George grinned happily as Michael and Dave looked sceptically at each other.

Michael entered the club first, counting the number of door men and bouncers in the place. Three on the door with three more visible in the club, probably two or three more out of sight. The whole place, despite being air conditioning, felt stuffy and claustrophobic, music thumped dully from the speakers as topless women danced on the bars and others moved around the sparsely numbered patrons. Michael sat at the main bar to the right inside the door and ordered a beer. He spotted three men in a small curtained off area on the opposite side of the small club, two more men stood sentry outside the small curtained square.

A few minutes later Dave walked in, ordered a beer and sat down near Michael.

'Hey how are you?' A bikini clad woman asked sliding up to Michael.

'Hi, how're you?' Michael responded nervously.

'Looking for company?' She asked smiling.

'Not really to be honest, sorta just here for the atmosphere.' Michael answered smiling.

'You're funny how about we go somewhere private?' She asked seductively, or what passed for seductive in a cockney accent.

'No you're grand thanks.' Michael answered becoming very interested in his beer.

'Oh well.' She said and wandered off.

George entered, ordered a beer and sat at the second bar closer to the curtained off area.

Michael drank and observed the club around him, he and his comrades were approached by various women during their stay there. Michael became increasingly impatient and it was starting to look suspicious that they weren't partaking of what was on offer.

Michael sat drinking at the bar as Dave got up and pretended to stumble towards the bathroom. Dave stumbled as he passed Michael and banged into him.

'Hey watch where you're going.' Michael yelled.

'Fuck you.' Dave growled.

'Hey take it easy.' Michael said putting his hands up.

Dave took a swing at Michael who blocked it and tackled him to the ground. The grappled on the ground and stood up punching at each other; Michael fought back a grin as he pulled a punch that landed in Dave's stomach. Dave tackled him.

'Take it easy.' Dave whispered.

'Sorry buddy.' Michael whispered back pretending to punch him in the face.

Two bouncers grabbed both of them. Michael suppressed a giggle as he bucked back smashing his head into the bouncer's nose. A satisfying crunched yielded a yelp and he fell back. Dave knocked out the first bouncer as another advanced across the club. The three that had stood at the door entered into the main part of the club; Dave and Michael grinned at each other. One swung at Dave who ducked and kicked at the man's knee which popped and he fell screaming. Another went to tackle Michael who sprawled back, clinched the bouncers head and drove two punishing knees into the man's face. The next two circled warily and the two who had been guarding the curtained area went to deal with the disturbance.

The music had stopped, many of the patrons were watching with a great look of interest and several of the women were screaming. Another bouncer threw punches at Michaels head and midsection Michael blocked the one aimed at his head but the one thrown to his midsection landed glancingly. Michael grunted and stumbled back; Dave had defeated his second bouncer and had begun dealing with Thomas' bodyguards. The bouncer advanced smiling and threw punches again; Michael dodged back blocked the blows and threw a punch with every ounce of force he could muster connecting with the bouncer's jaw flooring him.

Dave took a blow to the jaw and fell back, his training and fitness saving him from being knocked unconscious. Michael spotted one of Thomas' bodyguards draw a knife and advance on Dave who was busy engaging the other bodyguard. Michael sprang forward engaging his hidden blade and driving it into the knife wielding bodyguard.

A cacophony of screams erupted, twice as loud as before. Michael allowed the body to drop and turned ready to meet the next attacker. People were running all over the club, alarms were going off; Michael watched George drop the Thomas' body to the ground, he was stained in blood and had covered the curtained area in gore from the three slaughtered Templars. Dave was busy punching the last bodyguard into and beyond unconsciousness; he looked up, his face covered in blood also.

'Let's get the hell out of here.' George ordered walking calmly to his brothers.


	14. Chapter 14

The Assassins lay low for a few days following the assassination in the strip club. The city was in uproar and it had been called a gang land related attack causing an increased police presence on the streets and the threat of new anti-gang laws which were just an excuse for the Templars to tighten the noose further. Rumours had reached the Assassins of ordinary people being assaulted on the streets by police and being searched illegally. George wanted to go after several high ranking Templars, police officers and politicians but Brendan had given explicit orders for them not to. They were to carry on with the mission at hand.

Dave pulled the car to a stop outside a respectable looking Georgian style house in the centre of London.

'What are we doing here?' Michael asked.

'Rupert's moved up in the world.' George explained exiting the car.

The door was answered by one of the men they had met on their first night in London in the run down grimy theatre that had served as Rupert's offices. Michael nodded at him and noticed they weren't searched this time.

They entered a lavish reception area, finely furnished with bright, dark oak. Beautiful art work hung on the walls and the place had a nice open and airy feel about it.

'Hello boys!' Rupert greeted them looking noticeably healthier since Michael had last seen him.

'Rupert, a pleasure.' George said.

'Well don't just fucking stand there come in and sit down.' Rupert said jovially.

'Thank you.' George replied.

'When's our friend the bobby supposed to arrive?' Rupert asked.

'Should be here momentarily.' George replied.

'Want a drink?' Rupert inquired.

'I'll pass thanks.' George answered.

'Fucking tee-totallier.' Rupert teased.

Michael and Dave flanked the door and smirked.

One of Rupert's men led Terrance into the room. Terrance had a flustered look about him and looked as if he hadn't slept in a few days.

'Terrance O Hanlon, Rupert Johnson.' George said introducing them.

Terrance and Rupert shook each other's hands, albeit reluctantly, as they all sat down.

'You look like hell Terry.' George said concerned.

'I've been trying to keep my colleagues from hunting you down and looking over my shoulder every five seconds in case someone is going to kill me.' Terrance explained angrily.

'You'd swear you'd never been involved with Assassins before.' Rupert teased.

Terrance glared at Rupert, as he chuckled and sipped a scotch.

'What's the problem exactly?' George asked.

'The work I've been doing for the past few weeks has been exhausting, some of my colleagues have been asking questions. That guy you took out who was following me, I don't think he was the only one.' Terrance explained.

'Relax the Templars won't attack you unless they're sure you're allied with us.' George reassured him.

'But...' Terrance began.

'Look, we've taken out some of the worst criminals in this city in the past couple of weeks, we've been doing this for centuries, we know what we're doing, trust us.' George said staring intently at him.

'You've been doing a bang up job.' Rupert chuckled. 'My men feel safer, we can move when and where we like and the Taylor's aren't doing anything about it.' Rupert laughed.

'I think they've been busy.' Terrance said grimly.

'What do you mean?' George asked.

Terrance took a picture from his pocket and put it on Rupert's desk. George leaned forward, Michael and Dave moved closer to the desk to get a look at what was going on. Michael spotted the picture. A bloated rotund men lay covered in blood flat on his back on the floor of what looked like a butchers.

'What the hell?' Michael breathed.

'Brian O Riordan. The Taylors got suspicious why their lieutenants were getting taken out so easily. They thought they had a rat so they took it out on him. We found him late last night. The Taylors themselves have gone missing.' Terrance explained.

A moment of shocked silence greeted his announcement.

'Whoop de fucking de.' Rupert said toasting Terrance.

'Maybe if we give it time they'll do our job for us.' Michael said sarcastically.

'This is serious.' George growled. 'Any idea where they've gone?'

'Officially no, but I did some digging, Abstergo own an apartment complex in Central London. Its part office block, part apartments, if they've gone anywhere it's there.' Terrance answered.

'They'll keep the Taylors there, try and hunt us down, when they do, release them back into the city to take it back.' George growled. 'We're not going to let that happen we're going to finish this.'


	15. Chapter 15

For three days the Assassins kept a watch on the complex where the Templars were hiding the Taylors. Dave, George and Michael alternated each spending one day on watch to minimize suspicion. It was pretty clear the Templars were annoyed that the Taylors had drawn such attention to themselves by murdering O Riordan in such a public fashion and allowing his body to be found. Michael was still of the opinion that the Templars might kill the Taylors themselves for allowing things to come to such an end. On the evening of the third day Michael went back to the safe house to deliver his report to George. He found George and Dave preparing weaponry and equipment in the living room when he arrived.

'Lads.' Michael said.

'Report.' George ordered.

'Couple of people coming and going, most looked fairly innocent but with Templars it's hard to know. Definitely saw two Abstergo agents coming out of the place around lunchtime. I checked around the back the place is covered in security cameras.' Michael reported.

'We got Sarah to send down blueprints of the place. The first couple of floors are offices, nothing we need to worry about the last four are definitely Abstergo owned we expect them to be packed with agents.' Dave explained as he worked on an assault rifle.

'What's the plan then?' Michael asked sitting down and picking up a pistol.

'We sneak in the back door in disguise, take out the security office, make our way to the top floor and kill them.' Dave grinned.

'Sounds a little overly simple.' Michael responded warily.

'Why over complicate something.' George muttered cleaning his hidden blade.

'Are we doing this tonight?' Michael asked.

'No, I've something to do; we hit them first thing tomorrow night.' George growled.

Jerry sighed heavily as he carried out a black bag full of rubbish across the yard at the back of the complex. A lifetime of hard work and a spell in prison had aged him prematurely he looked and felt older than his fifty five years. He silently grumbled to himself about how filthy most of the building had become since these new men had arrived. They were snobbish and arrogant, most looked like criminals, they had that air about them; an air that Jerry was all too familiar with. He hefted the bag heavily into the large receptacle and turned to go back inside.

A scraping sound caused him to turn to the small hut at further to the left; a shuffling sound drew him closer.

'Who's there?' He called warily.

He thought about calling one of the security teams that had arrived in the building but he didn't want to deal with their sneers, besides which it was probably just a rat.

Jerry walked to the hut and undid the latch.

'Sorry about this.' A masked stranger said.

Jerry had no time to react as a fist flew straight into his jaw and rendered him unconscious.

Michael moved the caretaker's unconscious body into the tool hut. He searched the man's pockets and found a set of keys and a key card.

'Got the keys.' Michael muttered into his earpiece.

'Be there in a second.' Dave answered.

Michael exited the hut, he used the baseball cap he was wearing to cover his face and walked quickly to the back door. He hoped the security guards weren't looking at their monitors. A little luck was all he needed to get into the building quietly.

Michael glanced across the yard and spotted Dave drop over the wall into a shaded spot to the right. Michael scanned the card and heard the locks click open. He walked confidently through the quiet, empty hallways taking a right and then a left stopping outside the security office.

'Ready?' Michael muttered.

'Hit them hard and quietly.' George's voice whispered over the earpiece.

Michael rapped the door smartly.

'Cleaner.' Michael called doing his best cockney impression.

A large heavily built man answered the door angrily.

'Well hurry...' He began his eyes widening as he spotted the silenced pistol in Michael's hand.

Michael blasted him twice in the face before turning and shooting the second Templar twice as he sat at the security monitors. Blood sprayed across them painting the scenes they showed in a weird crimson light.

'Got them.' Michael muttered referring to the security team. Michael checked the bloodied screens to see what they were facing.

'What's the story?' George asked.

'Sixteenth floor.' Michael responded spotting the Taylors in the penthouse apartment.

'The halls of four floors beneath them are crawling with Templars.' Michael said nervously.

'I can see where they are but I need to know how many you and Dave are facing.' George said. He was perched on the building opposite with a sniper rifle. When they hit the penthouse George would help cover them and make sure they got the targets. He couldn't open fire himself in case he missed or only hit one and allowed the other to escape.

'Remember you've to take out those Templars quietly. We alert them and they'll fly the Taylors out before we've a chance to get them.' George explained.

'I know.' Michael responded.

Dave crept into the security room behind Michael.

'Everything ready?' Michael asked.

Dave nodded holding a bag full of bombs.

'Excellent.' Michael smiled despite himself.

They made their way to the elevator which took them up to the twelfth floor anything after that had to be accessed using stairs. It made the Assassins jobs slightly harder which was precisely the Templars idea. Dave and Michael sorted through their collection of bombs on the way up. Michael reloaded his weapon and took several deep, calming breaths.

Finally the door of the elevator pinged and opened onto a long hallway the twelfth floor. Michael and Dave exited quickly guns raised and stuck to the walls, Michael poked his head around the corner and spotted three Templars speaking and joking to one another.

Michael turned and grinned at Dave who handed him a canister. Michael pulled the ring and held it for two seconds before rolling it quietly along the floor.

'What the hell...?' Michael heard a Templar begin before a hissing sound followed by three thumps indicated the bomb had done its job.

The Assassins rounded the corner and found the three Templars heaped on the floor.

A simple and elegant bomb which released a gas; when inhaled, knocked the target out for several hours with no permanent damage, it also dissipated quickly which suited the Assassins perfectly. They entered into the stairwell; Michael heard the footsteps of a Templar plodding down towards them. Dave took the lead and signalled for Michael to go back into the hallway.

The Templar continued to move down the stairwell, blissfully unaware that two Assassins waited on the lower floor. He rounded the last corner coming to the last flight of stairs that led to the floor that Michael and Dave were on. He froze at the last second as he spotted Dave crouching with a gun levelled on him. He began to shout but was cut short as two rounds tore into his skull. Michael entered the stairwell after a moment and admired his comrade's work.

'Good shot.' Michael said impressed.

Dave grunted in acknowledgement as they began to ascend the stairs. It was only a matter of time before the Templars realised six of their men had been incapacitated. Michael was shocked they hadn't been discovered already. They made their way slowly and carefully to the top floor. Michael set a claymore at the top of the stairs to cover them, when the shenanigans started the Templars on the lower floors would rush up and walk right into the Assassins booby trap. It might take out one or two Templars but it would scare and delay the rest.

Michael and Dave took positions either side of the door leading to the penthouse floor. The hallway beyond was guarded by at least three Templars with four more in the actual apartment with the Taylors. Michael opened the door slightly as he pulled the pin on a flash bang grenade; he threw it with as much force as he could muster. Yells and the sound of shuffling followed before a loud bang echoed through the hallway. Both Michael and Dave exploded into the hallway firing at the incapacitated Templars killing both guards.

'There are six in the apartment including the Taylors.' George roared over the earpiece.

'Start firing now.' Dave ordered as he and Michael took positions either side of the penthouse door.

The sound of shattering glass was followed by a scream and gunfire. The door to the penthouse was reduced to match wood by the weight of bullets fired through it. Michael and Dave both shielded their eyes from shards of wood flying about. Michael peeked around the corner of the door into the apartment only to narrowly avoid being shot in the head. Dave popped around the corner and fired twice, a second Templar fell; his head reduced to particles by George's sniper rifle. Michael fired and alternated with Dave keeping the Templars heads down. Dave moved forward into the apartment; George was firing constantly and this distracted the Templars long enough for Dave to get close to one and stab him with his hidden blade. Robert Taylor rose up from behind a seat he'd been using as cover and fired repeatedly at Dave, Michael dived into the apartment and started firing hitting Robert three times in the chest. The last Templar agent fell, hit from fire coming from George. Robert fell to the ground as Dave recovered.

'You bastards!' Richard Taylor screamed seeing his dying brother on the ground. Dave's gun clicked empty as Taylor slotted a fresh clip into his submachine gun and aimed at Michael who turned to face him. Taylor, blinded by rage, fired wildly hitting Michael in the chest. Michael fell back winded and breathless, he felt several ribs crack and he lay on the ground. Another round tore through Michael's hand creating a burning hole in his flesh and blinding him with pain. His dragonskin armour prevented the bullets from penetrating but he had taken the concussive blast full force. Richard advanced crying with rage and attempted to slot another clip in the weapon. Dave dived forward barrelling into him and they both rolled across the floor. Richard tried to get up but was impaled on Dave's hidden blade. Dave stabbed him repeatedly, blinding by anger and hatred.

'Dave get your shit together.' George roared over the earpiece.

'He. Shot. Mike.' Dave grunted driving the blade into Richard's corpse again.

'Check him.' George ordered. 'Hurry!'

A boom from the claymore left in the staircase showed the Templars were trying to get to the penthouse.

'Mike?' Dave said panicking as he checked Michael's pulse.

Michael's eyes fluttered open weakly.

'That fucking hurts.' Michael said blearily.

Dave checked his hand which was bleeding badly.

'Can you walk?' Dave asked.

'It really hurts.' Michael repeated.

'I know but we've to get out of here.' Dave insisted lifting Michael up.

'Ahhhhh!' Michael screamed. It felt as if his insides had been turned into burning jelly.

'Come on we've got to go.' Dave insisted hating himself.

Dave dragged Michael out into the bullet riddled corridor. A Templar appeared at the entrance to the staircase Dave ducked behind the corner again as bullets ripped into the wall.

'George we're trapped.' Dave said sadly laying Michael against the wall and checking his pistol.

'Hang on.' George ordered.

Michael leaned against the bullet riddled wall, breathing was painful and laboured and his hand burned with an indescribable ferocity. Dave looked worriedly at his companion and checked the bag of explosives they had brought with them and extracted a small round grenade.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey everyone sorry for such a space between submissions. I was at a jiu jitsu camp last week with no internet. Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. As per usual I don't own Assassins Creed (unfortunately). **

Dave kept close to the wall as round after round blasted the wall to pieces. Dave took three deep breaths poked his head around the corner and threw the grenade. Templars shrieked and yelled as they dived to get out of the blast radius. A dull boom reverberated through the hallway throwing up a massive amount of dust and fragments. Two Templars screamed as they fell to the ground, one missing half his face the other the bottom part of his left leg. Another lay on the ground in the unmistakeable stillness of death. Dave lunged around the corner firing hitting a fourth Templar. Two more Templars fired from the far side of the doorway leading to the staircase. Dave grunted and fell back winded as a round bounced off his body armour. As he ran out of ammunition and as the Templars prepared to move forward to finish him two shrieks rang out. Dave squinted through the dust and spotted a large, stocky man walking calmly towards him. Blood dripped from a knife and a hidden blade.

'How is Michael?' George asked.

Dave glanced up and gritted his teeth against the pain from the round he had been hit with.

'Other there he's in a bad way.' Dave answered grimly.

George spotted Michael and crouched down beside him.

'Watch the door.' George ordered.

'Mike?' George asked quietly checking his vital signs.

Michael groaned dully.

'Dave let's get him out of here.' George ordered.

Michael drifted in and out of consciousness; he was vaguely aware of the movement and jarring of Dave and George carrying him from the building. He passed out when he was laid in the car only to be woken sometime later by the voice of a stranger speaking loudly. He groaned and moaned weakly before passing out again.

Michael woke suddenly, jarred from a deep sleep and found himself lying in his cot in the dormitory of the Assassins Homestead. Late spring sunlight flooded through the windows giving the room a bright and stuffy feeling.

'Nice to see you awake.' Brendan said.

Michael sat up and winced as pain shot through his stomach and chest.

'Easy.' Brendan said concerned.

'What happened?! Where are George and Dave?' Michael asked.

'Relax, they're both safe, they're here resting.' Brendan soothed.

'What happened?' Michael asked wincing again noticing the cast on his hand.

'You were shot, George and Dave carried you out after fighting their way through the remaining Templars, they got you to a Doctor, well we think he's a doctor...he patched you up enough for Dave and George to bring you here.' Brendan explained.

'How long have I been out?' Michael asked.

'About a week, you took a lot of damage.' Brendan said sadly.

Michael groaned.

'Are the others back?' Michael asked.

Brendan smiled knowingly.

'No not yet, we're going to have a little celebration soon then I'm sending George and Dave to help them.' Brendan said cryptically.

'Celebration?' Michael asked confused.

'You'll see.' Brendan smiled. 'Get some rest, we'll get you when the time comes.'

Two days later Michael sat fully clothed on his bed reading and watched the sunset. It was still painful to move and he walked very stiffly. It hurt him sometimes to breath but he felt restless. He wanted to get back into the fight. George, Dave, Alex, Sarah and Brendan spent a lot of time with him. He spoke of different things to each of them. The most fascinating was the conversations about philosophy and history he had with Brendan. He learnt a lot about the philosophy of the order from him while he rested. He asked each of them of news of Ian, Danielle and Emma on a regular basis to which he got very little answers which worried him.

Michael looked up when he heard the door clatter open.

'Ready to go?' George asked smiling.

'I suppose.' Michael responded nervously.

They walked together into the yard.

Michael looked around confused. Brendan and Alex stood around a glowing brazier just outside the back door of the main house Sarah stood in front of them and Dave off to the side looking nervous.

'Is everyone ready?' Brendan asked.

A chorus of yes and its variations answered him.

'Very well.' Brendan answered raising his arms over the brazier.

'Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine. The wisdom of our creed is revealed through these words.' Brendan intoned solemnly.

Michael looked around as everyone bowed their heads he swiftly followed.

'Where others blindly follow the truth remember...' Brendan said.

'Nothing is true.' They all answered.

'Where others are limited by morality or law...' Brendan continued.

'Everything is permitted.' They responded.

'We work in the dark to serve the light. We are Assassins.' Brendan finished.

Dave stepped forward holding out his left hand. Brendan raised a pair of white hot heated tongs and closed them around Dave's ring finger. Michael silently winced to himself imagining how painful that must be.

'Today you are a full Assassin.' Brendan said proudly to Dave.

Dave nodded, tears filling his eyes, as Alex moved forward giving him a salve for his finger.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello everyone for the rest of this story is going to be Animus based. I get to draw on my historical knowledge which is fun. Any inconsistencies please point out. I'm doing my research but things slip through. Please review. **

Michael woke with a groan the next morning; he attempted to sit up but was stopped by a sharp pain in his head. He whimpered and lay back down.

'I am never drinking again...' Michael muttered to himself and again attempted to stand.

Dave lay sprawled at an odd angle over his cot across the room; George lay face down on the ground, Michael would have been concerned at this had George had been snoring loudly. Michael, had he not been hung over, would still not have risked waking George. Waking a still drunken, possibly hung over, highly trained Assassin would not have been a good idea for anyone to do.

Michael stumbled into the kitchen to the sight of Brendan holding his head over a cup of coffee with Sarah sitting beside him looking bright and wide awake at a tablet while Alex bustled around.

'...I told you not to drink so much.' Alex scolded Brendan.

'I know...' Brendan answered weakly.

'Morning.' Michael coughed.

Brendan looked up squinting at the light.

'Morning.' Sarah said cheerily.

Michael grunted as he poured tea and sat down holding his head.

'...I've news for you.' Sarah teased.

'Hmm? Is it a cure for a hang over?' Michael asked.

'No. Much more important.' Sarah continued cryptically.

'I didn't think it possible but you're making my head hurt worse.' Michael growled.

Sarah giggled.

'It turns out you are not the first of your family to be an Assassin.' Sarah announced.

Michael's head shot up and he looked at her in stunned silence. Alex and Brendan both looked at the pair of them confused.

'What?' Michael asked simply. 'I thought you said I'm not the first of my family to be an Assassin.'

'Yup.' Sarah responded happily. 'It turns out you've a...'

She checked her tablet her brow furrowing.

'...Great great great great grandfather who was one of us.' Sarah continued. 'I think there may be a great or two missing there.'

'How? When?' Michael asked confused.

'According to the scan I took he lived sometime around the 1790's in Ireland. Joined up shortly before the 1798 rebellion. We can use him to train you.' Sarah smiled.

'Is that a good idea?' Brendan asked.

'I told you I've installed safety features that will stop the bleeding effect reaching a damaging level. This is the perfect way to train Michael. He's injured.' Sarah insisted.

Michael tried to extend his casted hand and bolts of pain shot through it.

'Are you comfortable doing this Mike?' Brendan asked.

Michael looked at both him and Sarah and nodded determinedly.

Michael lay back into the Animus as Sarah bustled around him. She attached a device for monitoring his pulse and heart rate humming as she did so.

'Are those necessary?' Michael asked nervously.

'Absolutely.' She answered shortly.

'We'll both be keeping an eye on you Mike.' Brendan said sitting nearby.

'Ready?' Sarah asked sitting down beside Michael at a monitor.

'I suppose...' Michael answered.

'Here we go.' Sarah said excitedly typing furiously.

Michael felt like he was jerked forward. Everything went black before he found himself looking into a bright tunnel; faces, names, places and numbers zoomed at him. Michael felt another jerk and looked around. He found himself standing on a hill overlooking a small city a few miles away. Black swarms of men moved about on the plains in front of the city. Michael inspected himself. He carried a spear and a shield; he was dressed in a pair of light brown coloured trousers. He felt his neck and found a bronze torc there. Michael breathed deeply trying to calm himself.

'Niall? An bhfuil tú ceart go léir?'1 A large dark haired man dressed similarly to him asked.

'Tá.' Michael responded. 'If I have to spent this experience speaking Irish I'm screwed.' Michael thought to himself.

'Hang on.' Sarah's voice entered his head in a disconnected tinny way. 'The language software is acting funny it's not used to Gaelige.2'

'Uh oh.' Sarah said worriedly.

'What? What Uh oh?' Michael asked.

'I sent you back too far. You're at the Battle of Clontarf.' Sarah said.

'How the hell did that happen?' Michael asked furiously.

'I don't know...' Sarah answered. 'Don't worry I'll fix it, try and relax in the mean time.'

'Relax?! I'm in the middle of a bloody battle.' Michael hissed.

'Niall what is wrong with you?' The man beside him asked again.

'Sorry, I'm just nervous I suppose.' Michael heard himself answer.

It was a strange sensation like Michael was trapped in his own body but unable to have any control over what he said or did. The man laughed heartily.

'We outnumber those North men and that bastard Mórda four to one.' The man said.

'I don't know Conn; the North men have their armour.' Niall replied.

'If you're scared why don't you run back south and hide behind your mothers skirt.' Conn taunted.

'I'll show you scared.' Niall growled scowling.

Conn laughed again.

'Save it for the North men.' He chuckled.

'They beat us back last time.' Niall said.

'We ran out of supplies last time.' Conn said calmly. 'This time we've our fleet and besides which we've the right on our side. Ar Rí3 has united us like never before, the foreigners and Mórda want to send us back to raiding and killing each other. If that coward Seachnaill had joined us Mórda and his Northern lapdogs wouldn't have dared fight.'

As he spoke a group of tall heavily armed and armoured men walked by; the camp was alive with activity as various contingents moved into position. Conn growled audibly.

'Damn mercenaries.' He spat.

Niall yawned, they had marched south from Munster, harrying and attacking Viking bases wherever they found them. He had been part of the attack on Athlone and Limerick before marching here. It had been constant campaigning for the past several months and he was exhausted.

'Are you ready?!' A voice yelled out powerfully across the line.

1 Niall? Are you all right? This is modern Irish I couldn't find a source for archaic Irish.

2 Gaelige is Irish for Irish.

3 Our King.


	18. Chapter 18

Niall spotted a tall, dark haired young man protected by leather armour.

'Murchad is well wrapped up. I suppose the king doesn't want anything happening to him.' Conn sneered.

A chorus of yells rang out across the line as they marched into position. They took up position in the centre. Niall stood several rows back he could make out his aging king astride a war horse inspecting the lines. The Viking mercenaries stood on the right of their line, their heavy weapons and armour protecting their right flank which Niall was thankful for despite Conn's disgust. They were commanded by the kings brother Wolf the Quarrelsome1. They faced their kinsmen across the battlefield. The men of Connaught came after that under their kings all subservient to Brian Boru. His own men of Munster stood next in the centre of the line as was their right and duty to their king. Finally the men of Dál Cais stood on their left facing the enemies strong right flank; fourteen hundred warriors under the King's fifteen year old son Tordhelbach.

Both sides yelled and shouted insults at each other. Anticipation and anxiety filled the air like an electric charge. Niall clutched his spear closer and silently wished he had one of the Norsemen's breastplates.

When the tension became unbearable Mórda's men and his Viking Allies charged, they were outnumbered but their heavier armour and better equipment pushed the Irish and their Viking mercenaries back. It was reduced to close combat; the press of bodies, the smell of blood, steel, excrement, the smell of sheer terror was overwhelming. Michael observed this stunned into silence. Niall stood back from the frontline ready to jump into the line whenever a man fell. Men of Munster fell left and right as the Viking's heavier weapons made their impact. Niall lunged into a gap made by a man who fell with his skull split open. Niall thrust his spear forward impaling a Norseman through the throat. He blocked another blow which cut off a part of his shield took a step back and drove his spear into the man's gut felling him.

Niall spotted the Viking standard float into view above the squirming struggling mass of men. A man beside Niall fell with his head partially severed, Niall snarled and punched the Northman who had slain Niall's comrade with his shield breaking the Viking's nose and punched his spear into his gut. Another Norseman came forward slashing at Niall who flicked his spear up slicing into the Viking's armour. The Norseman pushed forward and grabbed Niall's spear and pulled him in and tried to stab him with his sword. Niall blocked it and punched at the man tearing off his helmet. The Viking pulled him around and tried to get free to slash Niall. Niall jerked forward catching the Viking off guard and head butting him. Niall grabbed the man's sword, tore it from his grasp and plunged it into the Viking's skull.

The Vikings pushed the men of Munster back, bodies piled high some clung to those still standing for help only to lose their heads or heads. Those that fell, uninjured would, die from the suffocating pressure of the Viking men and Irish still standing and fighting. Niall fought furiously hacking and stabbing. The morning dragged on, Niall was drenched in sweat, covered in blood, both of his own and his enemies. The afternoon changed the tone of the battle the Viking's exhausted by their heavy armour, outnumbered began to be pushed back. Niall spotted the Viking battle standard a heavily armoured Viking carried it roaring orders to his comrades. He carried a large sword and wore a large horned helmet.

'That's Siguard.' Sarah's voice echoed in his head.

'Who?' Michael asked.

'Lord of the Viking's of Dublin.' She said.

Niall snarled, too many of his comrades and kin had fallen because of this man. A small core of Munster men advanced against the enemy standard. A small unit of heavily armed Vikings stood in their way. For one of the Norsemen that fell two Irishmen perished. Niall dodged a Vikings slashing sword and swung his own blade up cutting into the Vikings chin. The man fell back screaming as Niall drove the blade into the man's neck. Siguard saw Niall advancing on him and snarled an intelligible challenge to him. He gave the standard to his bodyguard and swung at Niall who dodged to the right swinging his blade in return. Steel clashed against steel and Niall grunted as his arm shook with the force of impact. Siguard smiled through his beard and prepared to finish the Irishman. Siguard hacked down with all his strength intending to wedge his blade in Niall's head.

Niall dodged back falling over a corpse behind him and letting his sword fly out of his hand. Siguard advanced cutting down another Irishman in his way hefting his sword up and prepared to plunge it into Niall's squirming form. Niall's hand scrambled for anything sharp with which to defend himself. His right hand closed around the broken end of a spear. Siguard lunged forward as Niall came forward catching Siguard off guard plunging the spear end into the man's chest. Siguard's helmet fell off revealing his shocked brown eyes. Time seemed to slow the clashing and ringing of steel of the battle seemed to fade away as Niall drove Siguard's body to the ground.

'Damn you Gaedhael2.' Siguard spat.

'Serve's you right, trying to take our land and divide us, killing, raping and kidnapping as you please. Our king will end your reign of terror.' Niall promised.

Siguard laughed as blood came bubbling from his mouth.

'It is already too late for your King, my brothers will see to that.' Siguard promised as he died.

Niall stood surveying the battlefield, the battle had moved on from this spot, the Viking's seeing their Lord fall had lost heart and began to retreat, and the Irish had taken heart and chased them back to the city. Niall looked around at the broken bodies and weaponry, searching for something to arm himself. He spotted Siguard's blade nearby and picked it up. Strangely for a Viking blade it had a cross similar to the Christian cross in red on the pommel. Niall looked confused at this, he had heard that the Norsemen kept their Pagan gods and didn't worship the Christian God.

He forgot this and attempted to catch up to his battle line and rejoined the fight. The Vikings scattered towards the city's dock. Some crossing the River, weighed down by their armour drown. The rest fled to their boats. By the time the sun set, Mórda's Irish and Viking armour was broken.

1 History isn't straight forward it's often a mixture of competing aspirations. For instance the wars in Ireland at this stage weren't as simple as Irish against Viking. Irish kings regularly allied with Viking King's against other Irish kings and vice versa they often cemented these alliances through marriage. In several cases Irish Kings married multiple wives or married their daughters to multiple men (not at the same time). Resulting in Irish King's having Viking half brothers or brothers-in-law.

2 Gaedhael-man of Ireland.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi everyone, little note before you read this chapter. Firstly, it is quite harrowing and violent, just warning. Secondly, I'm not sure if I've said this before, if I have I apologise, I am a Military historian with a masters I've spent four years studying Irish Military campaigns, rebellions and wars and wanted to write about it in the Assassins creed universe. The topic I want to write about is the 1798 rebellion. It was a harsh brutal time in both Ireland and Europe and ties in with AC3. Just so you know from now on my chapters will be much more bloody and horrible. I'm not hyping them up this is simple fact and a warning to those of delicate constitutions. Again if there's anything wrong or I make a mistake please tell me. **

Michael felt a jerk and moved back through the brightly tunnel, his vision cleared as the view of the garage and Brendan's and Sarah's faces floated into view.

'That was weird.' Michael said exhaling heavily.

'That went really well.' Sarah exclaimed happily.

Michael looked at her bemused.

'You were off by about seven hundred years there Sarah.' Michael stated.

'The animus needed time to adjust to you it'll be fine next time.' Sarah said waving him off.

'How do you feel?' Brendan asked concerned.

'Little tired, muscles sorta ache, other than that fine.' Michael responded.

'That was fascinating.' Brendan said amazed.

'How so?' Michael asked rubbing his eyes.

'We've never really seen the extent of Templar power we assumed they reached their apex in 1119; we never thought they had that kind of influence in 1014 in Northern Europe.' Brendan said.

'Ready to go again?' Sarah asked cheerily.

'Yeah I suppose so.' Michael answered.

'Already?! Is that a good idea?' Brendan asked annoyed.

'I feel fine honestly.' Michael insisted sitting back into the animus.

'If anything goes wrong get him out.' Brendan ordered.

'I will I promise.' Sarah said.

Michael felt a jerk again; he was less disorientated this time. His eyes opened and he breathed heavily.

'We got it right this time.' Sarah's voice echoed. 'You're in Tipperary in 1793.'

Michael had the strange sensation of being a guest in his own body being able to see everything but control nothing. The man's body he had entered felt powerful and large; he tilled a small plot of earth beside a small ramshackle house with a turf roof. He could hear the distant laughter of children coming from somewhere.

'Finn?' A woman's voice echoed from the hut.

'Céard1?' Finn asked.

'Are you all right?' The woman asked.

'I could do with a sup of water.' Finn said.

A tired looking but pretty brown haired woman emerged from the hut carrying a small metal cup which she handed to Finn with a smile.

'How're things looking?' She asked worriedly as Finn drank deeply.

'Grand, I should be able to sell enough to cover the rent.' Finn said. Michael sensed the worry in his ancestor's stomach. The woman looked worriedly at Finn.

'It'll be ok Ana I promise.' Finn said reassuringly clasping her arm gently.

Ana looked at him worriedly and turned as two young children, one boy and one girl came running around the corner.

'What are you two up to?' Ana asked mock sternly.

'Playing catch.' The boy replied merrily.

'I keep catching him.' His sister said mischievously.

The boy glared at her with all the indignation a five or six year old could muster.

'That's cause you're older.' He said as if it was an unfair advantage bestowed upon his sister.

'It's cause you're slow.' His sister teased.

'Am not!' The boy insisted.

'Cathal, Bríd, behave yourselves. Go clean yourselves for dinner go on!' Ana said reprovingly.

Finn grinned as he watched his family trot into the hut.

They sat together as a small roughly hewn table to eat dinner, laughing and joking happily with each other. The dark windowless hut was lit by a small candle which cast playful shadows on the walls which Finn used to make shapes with his hands. Ana cleaned up and smiled as she watched her husband amuse their two young children. This happy scene was interrupted by a series of loud thuds on the door. Finn looked up sharply and worriedly at his wife who retreated back towards him as Finn moved forward. He opened the door slowly to be greeted by a man in a long dark coat.

'Who are you?' Finn asked.

'D'ye not recognise your own brother?' The man asked cheerily raising his face so Finn could see who it was.

'John, thank god, I thought it was the rent agent.' Finn said relieved.

'It's good to see you.' John said happily hugging his brother.

'Uncle John.' The children screeched excitedly running and hugging their uncle.

Ana nodded tightly at her brother-in-law.

'Ana nice to see you.' John said his smile fading.

'To what do we owe the visit?' Finn asked sitting at the table again.

'Can't I stop by to see my brother, his lovely wife and my adorable niece and nephew?' John asked mock scandalised.

Finn looked at him sceptically as the smile faded further from his brother's lips. John walked towards him and sat down.

'Look Finn, they tried to recruit me into the Militia, as if I'd serve those Protestant bastards after all they've done to us.' John said angrily.

'Oh god you've deserted!' Finn said sitting bolt upright, 'they'll come after you.'

'Let them, they won't find me, this time tomorrow two days from now I'll be on a boat from Cork bound for France.' John said, 'I just need a place to stay for tonight please.'

Finn looked at his brother in muted shock. Angry he had put his brother's family in such danger.

'Do you know what they'll do if they find out we helped you?!' Finn hissed.

'Please Finn, you know what is happening isn't right, our kind are second class citizens, criminals in our own country. They're trying to recruit us to fight each other and the French; the French who had enough of listening to aristocrats taking everything from them. What the French did is an inspiration to us all they'll help us get our rights and our freedom.' John insisted passionately.

Finn shook his head hopelessly.

'Things are changing Finn; they're arming Catholics and giving us Irish more of a chance. With French help we can finally be free.' John said happily.

'That doesn't change the fact that if they find you or know we helped you they'll kill my family.' Finn said.

'I'm family too!' John insisted, 'besides which they won't I just need one night here that's all then I'll be gone. They'll never know.'

Finn looked at his wife. She clutched her two children, who had been listening to their uncle and father speak, all three looked worried. Finn wrestled with his loyalty to his brother, his own burning sense of injustice and concern for his family. He had been forced to work himself to the bone to pay his rent, his tithes2 and to feed his family.

'Just for one night John.' Finn said sternly.

'One night, that's all I need. Thank you.' John said gratefully.

Finn woke early the next morning, he dragged himself out of the small bed his shared with his wife and looked across the small room to his two children sleeping in a small bed. John snored loudly on the floor by the fire place. Finn couldn't help but smile, his brother had not changed since they were children. Finn left the hut and began his morning duties of milking his two cows, feeding the chickens and weeding a small plot of land near his house. He worked until the sun rose higher in the sky and strolled back home. He found Ana peeling potatoes and the children playing by the fire as John packed a small bag.

'Getting ready to go?' Finn asked.

'Yeah I'd better make tracks before the day gets too far advanced.' John replied.

Ana looked concerned at her husband.

A loud thump rang out through the cabin as they all stared at the door.

'In the name of the Lord Lieutenant open this door.' An authoritative voice called.

'Oh no.' Ana breathed retreated back and taking the children in her arms.

'Cac!3' John and Finn muttered simultaneously.

'I said open this door.' The voice repeated.

John looked helplessly at his brother whose overwhelming anger gave way to despair. In a split second the door was smashed down and the hut was flooded with red coats and Militia men. Ana screamed as the children were tore from her, they began to cry in terror. John attempted to fight only to receive the butt of a musket to the gut and then the face. Finn was grabbed by two large red coats who stank of stale sweat, tobacco and alcohol. They were all dragged from the hut and thrown in front of an officer seated high on a charger.

Ana and the children whimpered, John did his best to appear defiant while Finn desperately tried to think of a way to explain everything.

'Did you really think we'd let a deserter get away that easily?' The officer asked John, 'You have a duty to your king and country.'

'I don't answer to any king.' John spat.

He received a blow to the gut for that.

'All you papists are the same you don't realise how our order and rule is good for you. Were it not for us you'd all be scraping in the dirt.' The officer sneered.

'Please he means no harm...' Finn began.

'Silence peasant.' The officer snapped, 'what you have done is nothing short of treason against the crown and must be punished as such.'

'Please...' Finn begged.

The officers nostrils flared.

'This is a den of disloyalty and dissent and must be destroyed along with all who dwell here.' The officer ordered.

'No...no please!' Finn pleaded becoming frantic.

Ana and the children began to cry and wail.

'Take the children.' The officer ordered.

Two soldiers moved forward and tore Cathal and Bríd from their mothers arms. Ana screamed and tried to fight but was beaten down. Finn tried to break free from the men who held him but was set upon by them and two more red coats. John started yelling and received the same treatment as his brother.

'Kill the deserter.' The officer ordered, 'you can have your fun with the woman.'

'No!' Finn screamed through the boots and musket butts raining down on him.

Michael felt every blow from the red coats boots and guns but what was worse was his ancestors feeling of helplessness. How he stayed conscious through the salvo of blows Michael didn't know. Michael wished Finn hadn't. He watched, through time distorted as his children were barricaded in the hut which was set on fire. Their screams of sheer terror were the worst thing Michael had ever heard. John was dragged to the small plot of land tied standing up. Finn croaked through bloodied and broken teeth as a cacophony of musket fire rang out and his brother fell lifeless to the ground. Of all the horrors Finn witnesses, endured, that day the sight of his wife, his beautiful caring wife being raped again and again filled his heart with pain. The powerlessness and hatred that ran in Finn numbed him to the beating he received. The yells and hoots of the soldiers as they ravaged her again and again were worse than any beating.

When they had finished the officer dismounted and walked over to Finn's battered and bloody form.

'This is what rebels and deserters deserve.' The officer sneered leaning down to stare at Finn who could just make him out through swollen eyes.

'Her pain won't last long. Yours is just beginning.' The officer smiled taking a pistol from his belt and aiming at Ana.

'You will be rejoined soon.' The officer soothed pulling the trigger.

Finn whimpered as the gun discharged, the ball tearing into his wife's form lying huddled on the ground. Blood splayed across the ground mingling with the dirt and muck.

'Will we finish this one?' A soldier asked tying his breeches.

The officer looked down on Finn who was gasping for air.

'Leave him. He'll be dead soon he'll suffer more this way.' The officer ordered.

They left Finn gasping for air and bleeding as his house burned and his brother and wife's blood soaked into the soil he had worked so hard to keep them alive.

1 What?

2 Church tax everyone, regardless of religious affiliation, had to pay to the Anglican Church.

3 'Shit'.


	20. Chapter 20

Michael felt the now familiar jerk that pulled him from the animus. He sat bolt upright tears streaming down his face. Sarah and Brendan both moved to his side looking worried.

'They...those fuckers...they were family.' Michael spat shaking; he held onto the sides of the animus his grip like iron.

'Mike...Michael...calm down.' Brendan soothed. 'They weren't your family.'

Michael glared at him his breathing ragged and laboured.

'Disconnect him completely; he is not going back in that fucking machine.' Brendan ordered.

Sarah's eyes widened in sheer terror and she moved to remove the various devices attached to Michael.

'No.' Michael said.

Brendan looked at him.

'What do you mean 'no'?' Brendan asked incredulously.

'Finn is my ancestor, he must have survived that. What happened to him?' Michael asked.

Brendan looked nervously at Sarah.

'Sometime later he must have joined the Assassins, what is left of our files and the scans of yours I went through he was quite good at what he did.' Sarah answered.

'Put me back in. I want to see him kill that sonofabitch.' Michael spat.

'You are not going back into that machine.' Brendan insisted.

'The point of this is to train me. Finn was a good Assassin from what Sarah said. He must have got his shit together enough after that to become an Assassin. Put me back in. Please.' Michael pressed.

He was calmer now more focused and possessed of a burning anger. Brendan met Michaels gaze and it took all of Michaels will not to break eye contact. Brendan broke eye contact and glared at Sarah.

'If this was a few years ago the both of you would have been disciplined most harshly for such insubordination.' Brendan growled.

Brendan sighed and rubbed his face.

'Ok, but keep a close eye on him and no more surprises.' Brendan ordered.

Michael sat back as Sarah reattached the various pieces of equipment she needed to monitor him. Names, dates and places flew through Michael's vision.

Finn gasped through bloody teeth for air, he felt his strength leave him, and he only barely felt the overwhelming heat coming from his burning home against his flesh. He couldn't move he felt as if everything was broken, his body, his will, his heart. He waited for death, anticipating the pain being taken away. Finn just about made out the sound of more men dismounted horses.

'Fuck we're too late.' Finn heard.

Finn made out the crunch of boots on the ground.

'That bastard Fitzgerald is responsible for this.' Finn heard a second male voice.

'We should've killed him in Clonmel.' One of the voices said bitterly.

'There was too many of them Gallagher, we would've been killed.'

'It may have prevented this.' Gallagher responded.

He walked around checking Ana's body and sighing sadly. Gallagher knelt beside Finn's body. Finn felt a hand against his throat.

'This one is alive Jim.' Gallagher said excitedly.

'Looks in a bad way.' Jim responded coming closer.

'Help me with him.' Gallagher said.

Finn attempted to groan as everything faded to black.

Finn woke slowly, consciousness returning and along with it the painful memories of what happened. He let an involuntary low animalistic groan of pain escape his lips.

'You're awake.' A voice said happily.

Finn recognised the voice of one of the men who had helped him.

Finn clapped his parched lips together and attempted to speak only to emit a low moan.

'Easy my friend, you took a very bad beating, although I'd wager that is the least painful thing you have endured.' The voice said sadly.

'Water.' Finn asked weakly.

'Here.' The voice said bringing a glass to Finn's lips.

Finn attempted to take it himself but found he was too weak to lift his arms.

'Relax.' The voice chastised gently tilting the glass and allowing Finn to drink. Finn drank furiously gulping it back. He coughed as the man grinned.

'My name is James Gallagher, you're in a safe-house in Clonmel, we got you here as quickly as we could. You took an incredibly bad beating we were sure you were going to die. Most of your ribs are broken, your left arm and you lost quite a bit of blood. The doctor we called had given you up for dead. As things stand you're in the clear, I have to say you're remarkably tough.' James said almost in awe.

Finn groaned and fell back into a deep sleep.

_Fast-forwarding memories to a more recent one:_

Finn sat as comfortably as he could in the living room of the house he had been brought to, he could see people and carts moving in the street outside and yearned to disappear amongst them. The room was sparsely furnished and ornamented but still hinted wealth and influence of the owner. The chair he sat in was the most comfortable he ever had in his life, the size of the room was bigger than his house had been. A bolt of pain shot through his stomach as he thought of that. The screams of his children and wife, the boom of the muskets that took his brother's life echoed in his head. Finn closed his eyes and breathed deeply fighting the pain and misery that erupted from his gut.

Finn heard the door open and a pair of boots click smartly on the hard wood floor.

'Sorry I'm late; had a meeting to get to.' James apologised, 'I received the message you were up and about and got back here as fast as I could.'

Finn said nothing and stared out the window.

'Would you like a drink?' James offered holding out a bottle of amber liquid.

'No...Thank you.' Finn said.

James shrugged and poured himself a glass before sitting down.

'First things first, I'd like to apologise for what has happened to you. No-one should have to endure what you have.' James said sadly.

Finn nodded slowly looking at his lap.

'Now, what is your name?' James asked.

'Fintan O' Flaherty.' Finn replied.

'Fintan, it's nice to meet you.' James said politely, 'I suppose you're wondering why we helped you?...'

Finn gave no response.

James sat silently for a moment waiting.

'The reason myself and my colleague found you that day is that we were hunting the man who led that patrol that was searching for your brother.' James said.

Finn's head rose up and met James' gaze.

'Colonel Thomas Judkin-Fitzgerald, a brutal, arrogant evil beast of a man, who thinks nothing of torturing and killing men, women and children. It is because of men and women like him our country is in the state it is.' James stated.

'I want to kill him.' Finn growled.

'I was hoping you'd say that.' James said, 'unfortunately it's more complicated than that...'

'Why not?' Finn asked becoming angry.

James leaned forward in his seat, setting his drink down and sighed heavily.

'...Have you ever heard of the Templar order?' James asked.

Finn shook his head.

'The crusades?...' James continued hopefully.

'I've heard of those.' Finn answered curtly.

'Ok that's something...' James began, 'The Templars were an organisation founded during the crusades to protect pilgrims who were visiting the Holy Land that, at least, was their cover. They have undergone many incarnations throughout history but that one is the one that has endured. These days they are more commonly known as Freemasons but this is more of a catch-all term for secret societies. The Templars seek nothing more than total control they aim to achieve this by robbing us of our free will. Through the British Empire and many other Empires around the world they seek to unite the whole world under one banner.'

'This Colonel Fitzgerald is one of them?' Finn asked.

'Yes, they are incredibly powerful but there are those who oppose them.' James explained.

'Who?' Finn asked.

'The Assassins, a group dedicated to maintaining human freedom and who seek peace in all things. I am an Assassin.' James announced.

Finn stared at him, nervous despite himself.

'I am offering you a chance to join us, the Assassins, to make a difference and more importantly to get revenge on the man who took your family.' James offered.

'I'll do it.' Finn said without hesitation.


	21. Chapter 21

The next morning Finn met James in what James called the drawing room. Finn was still not fully able to move and got bolts of pain through his broken arm which according to James was healing quickly. James entered the room carrying a large stack of books that made Finn quite nervous.

'Good morning Fintan.' James greeted him cheerily.

Finn stared at the books James had under his arm.

'I thought we were going to train?' Finn asked.

'Given your current state proper training isn't possible. If you are to become an Assassin, training the mind is indefinitely more important than the body. Our primary enemy is not the Templar's and their men but the idea that they espouse. We must educate ourselves in order to combat it.' James explained.

'I can't read...' Finn said.

James sat stunned for a moment before recovering.

'Oh...I'm sorry...I forget...' James trailed off, 'well...let's look at this as a positive, a chance to start with a clean slate...'

_Fast-forwarding memories to a more recent one:_

Sarah and Brendan watched Michael twitch as they monitored him. It was weeks before Finn was physically able to train. In this interim he learned to read and write. James read classics works of antiquity to him, made him read them. Made him read tracts on religion, law, history, philosophy; looking back these lessons were an easy introduction into the brotherhood. When the true training began Finn was pushed in a way he didn't think was possible. Michael experienced all of his ancestor's pain and suffering, weeks worth shortened to hours for Michael leaving him physically and mentally exhausted.

When Sarah decided he could take no more he was taken out of the animus, fed and rested.

'I feel like I've been run over.' Michael moaned one afternoon after coming out of a punishing session.

'Your body is nothing more than an organic support system for the brain. Your brain thinks it's you that's doing all this training and is reacting as such.' Sarah explained.

'My hand and ribs don't hurt.' Michael said cheerily sipping a cup of water Brendan had handed him.

'Your ancestor has a remarkable ability to heal. You do too it's quite amazing. The training in the animus helps work the damaged areas without actually putting them under strain.' Brendan explained.

'Where are Dave and George?' Michael asked.

'I sent George south to Liverpool to help Ian, Emma and Danielle finish their mission. Dave is on an errand in Glasgow.' Brendan answered.

'Are they all right?' Michael inquired concerned.

'They're fine, the Templars there are proving to be more stubborn than the one's you encountered in London.' Brendan reassured him.

Michael gulped back more water.

'Can I go back in?' Michael asked.

Sarah looked worriedly at Brendan.

'I think it'd be best if you rested for the rest of the day.' Brendan said.

'Come on please. I feel good, relatively, and Finn hasn't really started learning anything new it's just being fitness training and reading.' Michael pleaded.

Brendan sighed.

'This is getting a little ridiculous.' Brendan growled.

'That a yes?' Michael asked mischievously.

'That's a no.' Brendan ordered.

'Aww.' Michael said in the manner of a child that has been told he can't have sweets.

The next day Michael was hooked up again, fully rested and ready to go.

'I hope today we start making more progress.' Michael said to Sarah as she hooked up some electrodes.

'We will we're being cautious for your own good.' Sarah reasoned.

'I know.' Michael smiled gratefully.

'Here we go.' Sarah said.

Names, dates, numbers and the brightly lit tunnel jerked Michael into his own subconscious and back in time.

'Good morning Finn.' James said cheerily as he arrived into the small kitchen in the safe-house. For the past few weeks Finn had seen nothing of the outside world except for the small enclosed courtyard where they trained at the back of the house and the upstairs library where he studied.

Finn stared at his teacher saying nothing.

'I know that passed few weeks have been difficult but today the true training begins.' James announced.

Finn silently worried how difficult 'true training' would be. He dismissed this; he had endured the worst pain anyone could anything after that was easy. He and James trudged out into the early morning air into the sand covered courtyard. Finn inhaled deeply although the cool morning air to fill his lungs and help quench the burning hatred he awoke with every morning. It was his little ritual; he barely slept most nights wondering what else he could have done to protect his family, when he did sleep he dreamt of screaming, fire and blood; his family being taken away from him.

'We're going to have a little help today.' James said.

'Who?' Finn asked.

'A good friend and loyal brother.' James replied, 'although he is somewhat unpunctual.'

'Calm down I'm here.' A gruff voice called from the doorway.

'Jim good to see you.' James called.

Finn turned to see a large dark haired, scruffy man emerge into the courtyard.

'Finn this is my good friend and namesake James Corcoran.' James said happily, 'Jim this is the man I told you about Fintan O' Flaherty.'

Jim nodded at Finn.

'James wants me to help train you to fight like an Assassin.' Jim said.

Finn said nothing.

'Quiet one?' Jim growled.

'I don't like talking much.' Finn said.

'Let's see if you can let your blade do the talking.' Jim said.

James went to a small tool shed at the back of the courtyard and brought out three swords.

'You've at your disposal two of the finest swordsmen in these Isles Finn let's see what we can make of you.' James elucidated.

Finn stared at both of them and picked his blade. The handle fitted nicely into his palm and had a heavy rounded pommel balancing the long blade perfectly.

They started with the basics of foot work and movement, James calling out techniques as Jim and Finn moved around each other each working off the other. When Finn had these basics drilled into him they moved on to sparring with lighter, dulled weapons which left him with welds all over his body. After hours of training James finally called a halt to the punishment Jim had inflicted upon Finn.

Finn sat on the steps leading to the kitchen breathing heavily and angrily.

'You let emotion rule you. If you let that happen when you face a Templar you will be cut down. We can't afford to lose anymore as things stand.' Jim preached.

'Lose more?' Finn asked.

Jim looked at James nervously.

'You know as well as I do how paranoid the government is becoming because of this war with France. The Templars grow more influential everyday and the people more oppressed. We hoped that the United Irishmen would be a way by which we could secure this lands freedom from the Templars but the organisation is riddled with informers and we lose good men and women daily to them.' Jim said bitterly.

James stabbed the ground repeatedly with his sword absentmindedly angry.

'How many Templars are there?' Finn asked.

'Hundreds, of low ranking ones at least across Ireland Britain, there are a few dozen high ranking ones, they're the ones we need to take out.' Jim explained.

'And where does Fitzgerald fit into it?' Finn continued.

'He's a rising star within the Templars a fairly low level noble but with grand designs. The lead Templar is that bastard Fitzgibbon, the Lord Chancellor.' Jim spat as he said the man's name.

'He's extremely well protected and extremely powerful. We're nowhere near strong enough to take him out...yet.' James lamented.

'When will we be?' Finn asked.

'We'll see how quickly you learn.' Jim said handing James his blade.

'I've to meet the father.' Jim smiled.

'I'll see you later.' James nodded.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks for all the reviews and views. Finn is my character, colonel fitzgerald, fitzgibbon, James Corcoran and James Gallagher are all historical figures of the time. As per usual I don't own Assassins Creed. **

The next day James and Finn rode several hours outside of town. They passed several red coat and militia patrols Finn suppressed the urge to dive in amongst them and start killing them. James noticed this and increased their pace. They rode through the winding narrow dirt roads into the countryside before turning off the main track and riding down a small lane. If James was not in the lead Finn would have missed it.

After several minutes Finn became aware of the faint booms and bangs on the air. The lane dipped into a small valley where Finn spied several men firing muskets across a field. A yell went up and the men turned towards the oncoming riders.

'Hi there!' James called waving.

Finn saw one of the men nearest them squint suspiciously before a look of recognition entered his face.

'Hello Michael.' James greeted the man as he dismounted.

'James, a pleasure.' Michael answered.

'Finn this is Michael Dwyer, he's helping drill our men in the use of firearms.' James explained.

'Our men?' Finn asked.

'Good men who believe that Ireland should be free.' James explained.

Finn looked sceptically around at the ragged bunch of poor farmers and shiftless young men.

'Are they...are they Assassins?' Finn whispered to James.

'Oh no, of course not, just good men ready to fight when the time comes.' James answered.

'Thankfully with the Catholic repeal act1 we can finally train these men with firearms.' Michael explained.

'I thought this would be the perfect place for you to learn.' James clarified.

Finn looked at him sceptical again.

'Very well.' Finn said through gritted teeth.

_Fast-forwarding memories to a more recent one:_

Weeks bled into months, Finn's days and weeks assumed a comforting routine, training in swordsmanship daily followed by marksmanship and fitness and endurance training. For every hour he spent training his body two were spent honing his mind. The more Finn read the angrier he became about how the Templars had built their power, how his country was oppressed and how his people were kept ignorant and controlled.

James added hand to hand combat to Finn's training regime after a few weeks. His basis was that combat began with weapons and should ideally be fought like that but if and when Finn was disarmed he should know how to defend himself. Finn adapted to this quickly learning how to throw kicks and punches with lethal speed and power, he quickly found he enjoyed it. Nothing satisfied him more than the burning ache in his knuckles and shins from training in this way.

**Clonmel, Tipperary, 1794:**

Finn rose early as per usual someone moving about downstairs had woken him. He wasn't unduly concerned; where he was staying was used as a safe-house and regularly saw either United Irishmen2 or other Assassins using the place. Finn dragged himself downstairs and found a large strange wooden structure being built in the courtyard.

'What's this?' Finn asked confused.

'The next stage of your training.' James answered happily.

Finn looked from James' face to the wooden structure to a large pile of hay on the ground.

'You're going to learn to move like an Assassin.' James explained.

James launched himself at the climbing frame and scurried to the top with lightening speed.

'See how easy it is?' He taunted.

Finn looked unimpressed and followed him up the frame, Finn climbed much more carefully than James did. Finn's strength, accumulated from working on the land since he was a young boy served him well.

'Not bad.' James complimented him, 'try this.'

Finn held on stunned as James threw himself off the frame and landed with a frump on the pile of hay beneath.

'Go on try it!' James called laughing.

Finn looked down and for the first time in a long time felt a tinge of fear before throwing himself from the top of the frame. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a euphoria that he had never experienced before. He landed with a surprisingly soft thump in the hay.

'Fun isn't it?' James asked smiling.

Finn nodded eager to try again.

On top of combat training, climbing was added to Finn's routine. With these the lessons increased, the tenants and history of the Assassin order were drilled into Finn.

'Each Assassin is a vessel through which our history is carried so that if we are all killed and even if only one of us survives our order can be reborn.' James explained solemnly one dark afternoon as the rain pelted the window of the library.

Finn eagerly devoured all the information he was given. He had taken to heart the fact that his mind must be sharpened like his body if he was to hunt and kill his enemies.

'What are the tenants of our creed?' James asked.

'Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent.' Finn intoned, 'hide in plain sight and never compromise the brotherhood.'

'Good, excellent, what is the over-arching ideal of our order.' James asked.

'Nothing is true, everything is permitted.' Finn responded.

'And what does that mean?' James pressed.

'That the foundations of society are fragile, that no one way of looking at things is true, it takes many different views, many different ways of thinking to see the world as a whole. To say that everything is permitted is to know that we are responsible for our own actions, that we are not bound to one way of doing things.' Finn answered.

'An excellent elaboration.' James smiled; he sighed as he sat down, 'I've a job for you.'

Finns head perked up when he heard this.

'We've a problem with an informer here we need him removed.' James said.

'Not an issue.' Finn promised.

'I thought you'd say that.' James said walking to a nearby desk and withdrawing a package from it, 'this is for you.' James handed it to Finn.

Finn slowly and reverently opened the box to find a dark brown bracer placed in red velvet.

'This is the hidden blade, the weapon of choice for us.' James explained.

Finn removed the weapon and attached it to his right arm. He admired it, its lightness, and the red triangular insignia of the Assassin order set into the leather.

'Tense your arm.' James indicated.

Finn did as James suggested, a click launched a bright silvery blade from the bracer. Finn couldn't help but look impressed.

'Use this blade to spill that bastard's blood.' James growled.

Finn nodded determinedly.

Finn stamped his feet in the cold as he paused for a moment along the Quay keeping an eye on the tavern he had followed his target into earlier. Red coat patrols walked by every now and again Finn had to suppress the urge to attack them as best he could. His target, John Heffernan, had been giving information on the movements and plans of the United Irishmen to the British, this had to stop. By all accounts the man was a drunk who had spent most of the money he had 'earned' selling information on drink instead of his wife and children. This increased Finn's hatred for the man.

The door of the tavern clattered open momentarily casting light and music into the dark, cold street. Finn's stomach tightened with nerves as he recognised his target stumble out onto the street humming loudly. Finn began to follow remembering what James had taught him about stalking a target. Finn ducked down a small alley when he saw his target halt and stop humming. John turned to check the street, shrug and begin to walk again. Finn increased his pace to catch up and finish him. A man stumbling home drunk from a tavern on a dark street late at night, it was practically expected he'd fall into the canal. Finn broke into a light jog and tensed his arm hearing his blade click.

His target heard it too turning just as Finn rushed to meet him. Finns blade punched deep into the man's gut. Finn smelt stale alcohol on the man's breath as fear entered John's eyes. Finn twisted the blade eliciting a whimper from him. Finn felt the life drain from his target and dropped the body. Finn quickly searched it taking several pounds from the man's pockets. He dragged John to the edge of the quay and dropped him into the canal. Finn waited and watched him sick below the dark water before turning away and walking along the town.

Finn walked past the Assassins safe house and continued to the edge of the town where he stopped outside a small house, a ramshackle house little better than a shack. He silently walked to the door and deposited the small amount of cash he'd taken from his target just outside the front door.

'At least they'll be taken care of for a while.' Finn thought sadly turning for home.

He felt neither pain nor regret or uncertainty after taking his first life, the man had to die, deserved to die and Finn swore to himself he'd kill a dozen others, a hundred even if it meant killing the men who'd taken his family away from him.

1 Such was Britain's need for men at the time of war with France they repealed the some of the Penal Laws which had made Catholic Irish second class citizens in their own country.

2 Established by Wolfe Tone and several other Northern Presbyterians in Belfast in 1791. Quickly spread through the country.


	23. Chapter 23

Days, weeks and months of training passed broken up by James passing names and locations of informers to Finn for him to kill. Three more informers fell by Finns blade and musket killing became second nature to him.

'I have a new name for you.' James said by way of greeting Finn who was eating in the kitchen of the safe house one sweltering summer's afternoon. Finn looked up trying to hide the look of grim anticipation in his eyes.

'The man is a magistrate in Thurles further north, William McGeehan, a ruthless, heartless and corrupt individual.' James explained.

'A magistrate?' Finn asked nervously.

'We feel, that is to say, the brotherhood feels, that you are ready for more high profile targets.' James explained.

'Very well.' Finn acknowledged.

Finn rode for hours his sword clattered against his horses flank. The roads these days were for the most part deserted. People were too afraid to move around with the amount of brigades, deserters and red coats about. Merchants and farmers did not have enough money or stock to trade all of it taken by the government to pay for the war with France. Finns nostrils flared as he attempted to calm himself from thinking of the injustice of it all. He had rode through small villages, most nearly deserted, and filled with the stench of death and despair. People in these villages retreated when they saw him; they knew nothing only fear and terror.

He was getting close to Thurles now, the oppressive heat made him sweat in the saddle. Insects buzzed and a faint, slightly refreshing breeze blew through the canopy of trees that lined the small road. Finn almost found it peaceful. His reverie was broken by the sound of shouts and screams coming from nearby. Finn stopped his horse and listened carefully. He took a left off the main road down a narrow dirt track spotting a small pillow of smoke coming from a houses chimney. He rode closer as the shouts and screams increased. As he crested a small hill that hid the house from view he saw a small patrol of red coats dragging people from their home under the supervision of a rent agent1. Finn saw the family, a wife, husband and two daughters being dragged from their hut and beaten. Finn counted six soldiers and the rent agent. Finn charged downhill on his horse, so distracted were the soldiers with beating the family they didn't notice Finn until he was right on them. Finn threw himself from his horse hidden blade and dagger ready impaling two soldiers. The others turned hearing their comrades scream. One lowered his musket aiming at Finn; Finn blocked it down driving his dagger into the man's neck and ripping his throat out spraying blood across the ground. The remaining three circled Finn wary of attacking him.

'Come on kill the bastard.' The rent agent shrieked.

Finn could hear the fear in his voice and smiled. One red coat lunged at Finn with his bayonet; Finn blocked it with his dagger and drove his hidden blade into the man's right eye. The red coat fell back screaming as Finn turned blocking the second red coats blow again with his dagger and drove his hidden blade into the man's gut, withdrew it and drove it into his throat. The last red coat stood alone, his bayonet raised snarling at Finn. Finn smiled, drew his pistol and blew a hole in the man's head. Brains and blood were spat across the ground as the rent agent squeaked in terror and turned to run. Finn was on him before he got very far.

'Please?! Please don't kill me.' The agent pleaded.

Finn growled and drove his hidden blade into the man's chest in between his ribs puncturing the man's heart. Blood frothed his lips and he gurgled as he died. Finn stood breathing heavily from exertion and anger.

'Th...thank you.' The father of the family said nervously.

Finn turned sharply.

'Get out of here. They'll come back.' Finn ordered.

The man nodded hastily and gathered his family up.

Finn remounted his horse and headed from Thurles.

Finn watched beggar children roam weakly through the streets, skeletal waifs with eyes devoid of hope with their hands out hoping for scraps covered in filth and mud. A lone horse and cart clopped wearily through the muddy streets. The entire town emanated hopelessness and misery. Finn tied his horse up outside a tavern in the centre of town to be accosted by an elderly woman begging for food. He strode passed her; he hated himself for dismissing her. He knew his mission meant more, a small victory here could improve things more for her than any small amount of money or food he could give her.

The tavern was virtually empty, a small group of dedicated drunks supped their miseries away at the bar and barely noticed Finns entrance. Finn ordered a drink from the tavern keeper, who looked disgruntled at actually having to serve someone, and listened to the conversations which went on around him.

'They're being hanged today in the square.' Finn heard one man whisper to another.

'All because they wanted to keep some of their crops for themselves.' The second man replied disgusted with such injustice.

'McGeehan takes pleasure in selling his countrymen to his English masters.' The first man growled.

Several men looked puzzled at Finn as he left a full pint on the taverns counter.

A large crowd had gathered in a small square in the centre of town, several red coats stood sentry in front of a raised scaffold on which three men stood with rope around their necks. The executioner stood to one side as another pudgier man stood with a self righteous and smug look on his face addressing the crowd.

'These men stand accused of treason against the crown, hoarding food which rightfully belongs to his majesty King George.' McGeehan yelled.

Finn could sense the latent anger and resentment of the crowd, the tips of the red coats bayonets kept them at bay. Finns mind worked quickly, he couldn't attack the red coats directly from the crowd, they'd open fire killing innocents. Finn skirted around the main body of the mob and disappeared around the corner of the square. He ducked down a small alley around the back of some houses and looked up inspecting the structure. He looked relieved as he spotted a route up to the roof. He started to climb slowly, his muscles straining as he pulled himself up over windows and digging his fingers into small nooks in the brick. Finally reaching the top he crouched and walked slowly back to a position overlooking the square. He could see McGeehan still speaking to the crowd, his speech reaching a crescendo. Finn breathed deeply calming himself and engaged his hidden blade. McGeehan would die. Finn drew his dagger and sprang forward off the roof, remembering his training he landed heavily on the wooden scaffold and rolled forward shouts and yells erupted from the crowd. McGeehan stood stunned for a moment as Finn rose up with a practised ferocity he drove his hidden blade into McGeehan's neck and angled it up piercing his head. Blood erupted from the wound as his body dropped lifelessly to the ground. The executioner try to flee as Finn drew his pistol and shot him in the back. The crowd tackled at the red coats wrestling their muskets from them. Their shouts and screams were drowned out by a triumphant roar of the mob. Finn allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he melted into the thriving mob.

1 Most English land owners in Ireland were absentee's landlords which meant they lived in England or Scotland and used Rent agents to collect their incomes from their lands.


	24. Chapter 24

Michael breathed deeply as he emerged from the Animus.

'You ok?' Sarah asked.

'Yeah just still getting used to it.' Michael replied, 'what's going on?'

'Everyone is back.' Sarah smiled.

Michael's face lit up with unconcealed glee and he quickly disconnected himself from the various electrodes and monitors.

They both rushed into the main house to find a weary and worn group smile blearily at them. Emma and Danielle rushed over and hugged Michael and Sarah tightly. Michael hoped it just wasn't just his imagination but Emma held onto him longer than was necessary. George and Ian nodded at them.

'Glad to see you all back in one piece.' Brendan said entering the living room and being mobbed by Emma.

They spent the evening catching up with each other. George and Danielle regaled them with what had happened in Liverpool. They had broken the Templars criminal connections and interrupted their smuggling operations there. When Michael and Sarah started speaking about their experiment with the Animus it earned them astonished looks from Danielle and Ian and a reproving and suspicious look from Emma.

'That sounds absolutely incredible.' Danielle said amazed.

'Can I've a go?' Ian asked.

'Michael's ancestry makes him perfect for this, once we reach the end of all Finn can teach us we'll start trying to apply it to the rest of us.' Sarah explained.

'How do you feel?' George asked.

'Good.' Michael said nodding happily. 'I feel a lot stronger and faster and my chest and hand don't hurt anymore it's incredible.'

'Jammy bastard.' George said smiling, 'I'm looking forward to seeing how it's affected you.'

'Bring it on old man.' Michael said cheekily.

The next morning they gathered in the training hall, Brendan not willing to let up and wanting to continue the momentum of their recent successes wanted them training constantly. Michael wrapped his hands and strapped on boxing gloves and shin guards as did Ian and George who wanted to test him. Brendan supervised his men carefully as Alex worked with Sarah, Emma and Danielle.

'I'll take it easy on you.' George smiled.

'Yeah whatever.' Michael said unconcerned smiling all the same.

'Come on get started.' Brendan ordered.

George and Michael touched gloves and started sparring. George threw a one-two combination which Michael avoided easily. Michael skirted feeling very light on his feet and moving his head as he had been taught. George stepped forward and Michael a jab, which to his great surprise landed. George moved back stunned as was Michael. George threw a kick followed by several punches. Michael back out of range of the kick and blocked the first two punches and dodged the last two. George allowed a slight look of confusion and frustration to cross his face. Michael could hear Ian and Brendan mutter between them.

Michael threw a two one combination catching George in the stomach and winding him, Michael moved back out of range before George could respond. Michael danced around George who was badly hurt. Michael was reluctant to dive in and attack; he felt so light, so strong. George recovered and started attacking, throwing everything he could to connect, it was like Michael could see punches coming before George had even decided to throw them. This continued for the next few minutes George attacking Michael dodging and blocking with ease. Michael felt guilty he didn't want to fight back against the man who had trained him.

'Stop being nice Mike.' Brendan growled. 'George is a big boy he can defend himself come on.'

George was breathing heavily, his face red and wheezing, his fists, which felt like fifty pound weights were raised to ward off any blows. Michael wiggled his head and moved off as George threw a haphazard combination. Michael overcame his reluctance to fight back and threw a three punch combination George backed up covering his head. George felt a sharp pain erupt in his side as all the air was driven from his lungs. He didn't fall over so much as have his legs taken from under him.

'What happened?' George wheezed.

'Mike got you with a kick.' Ian smiled helping him take off his gloves.

'Ow.' George groaned getting his breath back.

'That was incredible.' Brendan said amazed.

Michael sat down a light sweat covering his body.

'Can we go again?' Michael asked looking at George and Ian.

'Ah no you're grand thanks.' George said as he stood up wearily.

'Don't look at me.' Ian said leaving the floor before Brendan could grab him.

'Cowards.' Brendan smiled. 'Well done Mike.'

Michael was strapped in and entered his ancestors memories, George and Ian stood watching what was going on. Finn trained and trained for months, Michael absorbed all of it in mere days, sometimes hours. George and Ian watched amazed as Michael became stronger and faster in the space of days.

Michael wandered into the kitchen one morning after a light training session to find Brendan and Sarah pouring over notes and files.

'Mike just who I wanted to see.' Brendan smiled.

'What's up?' Michael asked warily.

'You've been performing very well lately. I've a mission for you.' Brendan said handing Michael a file.

Michael flipped through the file skimming the information, something about a computer analyst being held captive by Abstergo.

'Who's coming with me?' Michael asked absentmindedly as he read the file.

'I feel you've ready to go alone on this one.' Brendan announced.

Michael looked up shocked.

'What? Why?'

'You've beaten George and Ian which is no small feat and I want to test just how much of Finn's training you've absorbed.' Brendan said.

'But I've never...' Michael began.

'It doesn't matter, you should be fine.' Sarah soothed.

Michael fought down his nerves and inspected the file again, his mind was in chaos and he found he couldn't focus.

Brendan smiled as he noticed.

'The man you're going to rescue is Vinny Cheung; his parents immigrated here in the eighties. He's a remarkably talented software engineer and hacker. He's recently completed a master's and was looking for work. Abstergo tried to recruit him but he turned them down; ever since then he hasn't been able to find work.' Brendan explained.

'Turned them down? He knew what they are?' Michael asked.

'I'd say he had his suspicions which have since been confirmed considering he wasn't able to find work with any of Abstergos affiliates or even smaller companies outside of their control. He's been hacking their systems and causing general mayhem for them for the past few months as you can imagine they didn't take kindly to this and kidnapped him.' Sarah cut in.

'How is he not dead?' Michael asked.

'Abstergo wanted him alive remember? They have him holed up in a small safe-house in the middle of the Welsh valley's hacking into government mainframes and rival companies.' Sarah elaborated.

'And you want me to go and get him?' Michael asked.

'Yup go get ready.' Brendan ordered.

Michael groaned nervously and got ready to go.


	25. Chapter 25

Ian dropped him into the nearest town where Michael started making his way south. Brendan wanted to see if Michael could survive on his own on a mission from beginning to end. Michael then got a train from Glasgow to Liverpool and then several more before he arrived in Colwyn Bay in Northern Wales. Michael rested in a hostel before travelling on the next morning, several buses, one of which sent Michael in the wrong direction he found himself in the small village of Llangerernyw.

'I need to learn how to drive.' Michael muttered to himself stepping off the final bus into the village.

He stretched and felt everything crack and pop from sitting still for so long. Michael hefted his bag, full of weapons and tools onto his back and walked through the village. People gave him funny looks and hurried along as he walked by. The place reminded Michael a lot of small towns back home and he smiled at the memories. Michael remembered his training and Finns experiences from the Animus and went into the nearest pub in hopes of hearing something of use.

The pub was typical of a small rural town, two or three old men and women and a suspicious looking publican behind the bar. Michael gave them his best harmless tourist smile as he sat down at the counter.

'Pint please.' Michael asked politely.

The barman grunted and poured the liquid into a glass which was shoved ungraciously in front of Michael who smiled became strained as he paid.

'Did you see those new lads driving around in that black car.' Michael heard one elderly woman ask her friend in the corner.

'Aye I did, rude fella's, striding around. What they're up to I've no idea. Three or four of them staying together in that old house near the church out beyond.' Her friend replied.

'Bit strange three or four men staying together in that one small house.' The first woman said.

'Sure you never know with those funny looking people.' The second replied.

Michael smiled now knowing where his targets were, he took a map from his bag and searched it for a church, there was two, one right in the town but he couldn't see another.

Michael's brow furrowed and considered calling Sarah for help before a thought struck him. Michael nodded at the barman for attention.

'Hi, I'm an archaeology student and I'm looking old ruins or old buildings in the area to have a look at.' Michael smiled simperingly.

'Oh yeah?' The barman asked suspiciously.

'Is there anything like that nearby to look at?' Michael asked, his patience straining.

'There's the ruined church about five miles outside the town. I don't know how you'll get out there.' The barman said slowly.

'That's fine, I'll figure it out thanks.' Michael said happily draining his pint and leaving. Michael hefted his bag higher and took off walking out the road opposite to the one he had arrived in from on the bus. He thought of the mission, Emma, Finn and his own family as he walked. Michael's training ensured he reached the ruins of the church very quickly, like most holy places it was situated on a hill which overlooked the surrounding countryside. Michael spotted a small house in a valley below, what it set apart from a few others scattered about were the antennas and dishes sticking out from the roof.

'Talk about making yourself a target.' Michael muttered to himself taking a pair of binoculars from his bag and inspecting the area carefully. Michael spotted a black B.M.W. partially hidden by hedges and trees that ringed the house. Two men patrolled the surrounding area each in suits, each wearing sunglasses and each, Michael had no doubt, well armed.

'So cliché.' Michael muttered to himself again.

Michael walked straight towards the house going over small walls which divided abandoned fields. Michael crouched low as he got closer to the house Finn's training taking over. Michael took s series of items from his bag and began assembling them into a rifle. Michael smiled as he felt the heavy weight of the weapon in his arms. He took two flash bang grenades and a pistol and attached them to his belt also. He attached and adjusted the scope of the rifle and smiled. Michael waited as one guard walked along the back end of the house and the second covered the front. Michael waited for the second guard to turn his back, Michael aimed at the first guard and fired a soft thump and the first guard dropped silently. Michael smirked, thankful for the suppressor. He took careful aim at the head of the second guard who was still unaware of his fallen comrade. Michael squeezed the trigger and watched a rainbow of blood erupt from the guard's skull. Michael giggled and packed away the rifle pulling a grenade from his belt and checked his pistol. Michael padded softly towards the house ducking behind the wall.

'Here, where the fuck are you?' Michael heard a strongly accented English voice call as a man emerged from the house.

Michael strode slowly from behind the wall, and took position behind the Templar. Michael pulled the trigger blasting the Templar at point blank range in the head.

'Too easy.' Michael smiled.

Keeping his gun raised Michael entered the house. The first room to the left, a small living room, was empty. The second, a kitchen, was also deserted. A hallway to the left at the back of the house led off to a bunch of bedrooms. The last door at the back of the house was locked. Michael smiled and kicked it open feeling the lock crunch as it broke. Michael dived and rolled into the room raising his weapon expecting another Templar.

'Please don't shoot!' A voice yelled panicked.

Amid a mass of wires, files and computer equipment, a young man about Michaels age sat with his hands up and a terrified look on his face.

'Vinny Cheung I assume?' Michael asked.

Vinny nodded alarmed. Michael smiled, the man wasn't exactly what he expected for a computer expert. Michael expected a skinny bespeckled kid with glasses; Vinny had a shaven head which sat on a large muscular frame. His arms were tattooed in beautifully designed dragons.

'Ready to go?' Michael asked.

'Go where?' Vinny asked perplexed.

'I'm the rescue party.' Michael answered annoyed that it wasn't obvious.

'Have the key for this?' Vinny inquired indicating a chain that held him to the desk he was sitting at.

'Templars aren't ones for subtlety.' Michael muttered partially disgusted, 'Oh well.' Michael sighed aiming at the chain.

'Wait...' Vinny yelled.

Michael fired blowing the chain apart.

'Jesus fuck.' Vinny yelled.

'Look at that you're free.' Michael smiled happily.

'You're insane.' Vinny breathed shocked.

'Yeah I know.' Michael answered casually.

They exited the house; Vinny made to run up the driveway.

'Hang on.' Michael said searching the body of the closest Templar and finding a set of keys.

'Do you know how to drive?' Michael asked.

Vinny, still looking shaken, nodded.

'Fantastic I don't feel like walking.' Michael said throwing him the keys and getting in the car.

Vinny looked confused before following him.


	26. Chapter 26

Michael explained who he was, who he worked for and what the Assassins are as they drove towards Liverpool. Vinny listened intently, silent and twitching every time another car came too close. They met Ian in Liverpool, they switched cars, giving the one they had stolen from the Templars to two men who were working for the local crime boss who Ian, Emma and Danielle had made contact with.

'You've a choice mate, you can make your own way from here, mind you the Templars won't stop hunting you or you can come with us, we can protect you.' Ian offered.

'What happens to my family?' Vinny asked nervously.

Michael looked to Ian for an answer.

'Dave took them to France and handed them to some of our French brothers. They'll be safe.' Ian promised.

Vinny adopted a thoughtful look on his face.

'After what those bastards did to me I'll do whatever it takes to hurt them.' Vinny swore.

'Looks like we've a new recruit.' Michael smiled.

Ian took Michael and Vinny north crossing into Scotland with no difficulty. Vinny fell asleep shortly after crossing the border much to the amusement of the two Assassins.

'How'd it go?' Ian asked.

'Surprisingly well, no real problems.' Michael responded.

'You've changed in the past few weeks.' Ian muttered.

'How so?' Michael asked confused.

'I dunno, more confident, little bloodier minded. I think it's to do with that machine.' Ian said sounding worried.

'I thought that was the point.' Michael answered.

'Yeah I know, just...just it's weird.' Ian said lamely, 'be careful with it.'

'Aww I didn't know you cared.' Michael said teasing.

Ian glared.

'I know I act a little de-fucking-tached but I do care you ass we are brothers.' Ian answered annoyed.

'Alright, look I appreciate it I do,' Michael soothed, 'but don't worry Sarah is keeping an eye on it.'

'Just be careful.' Ian said annoyed.

They drove in silence for most of the journey, before finally pulling to a stop outside the homestead.

'Oi Vinny wake up.' Michael ordered nudging their new recruit.

Vinny shot awake immediately alert with a slightly panicked look on his face which disappeared when he realised where he was.

'Looks nice.' Vinny said looking at the homesteads main building.

'We're back!' Ian called as they entered the house.

'Nice to see you all.' Brendan greeted them as they entered the kitchen. As per usual he had a pile of files in front of him.

Michael sat down and stretched out.

'This is our newest recruit Vinny.' Michael said smiling.

'I gathered.' Brendan said dryly, 'no difficulties?'

'It went surprisingly well.' Michael answered yawning, 'there was three Templars guarding him, I found where they were holding him, some little house out in a valley, took out the guards and he drove us out of there.'

'You're going to have to learn to drive.' Brendan grunted sorting some files.

Michael nodded and yawned again.

'Welcome to the Homestead of the British and Irish Assassin Brotherhood.' Brendan said greeting Vinny formally, 'Ian and you're sleepy saviour will show you where to sleep.'

'Th...thank you.' Vinny said nervously.

Ian, Michael and Vinny began to troop out of the kitchen.

'Mike, first thing tomorrow you're driving then back into the Animus.' Brendan called after them.

'I can't believe you nearly landed yourself in a ditch.' Sarah giggled as she attached an electrode to Michael.

'The car got away from me is all Ian was fine.' Michael grumbled.

Sarah looked sceptically at him.

'Is there some way of using this thing to learn how to drive?' Michael asked hopefully.

'No unless you want to use your parents' memories to learn how to drive?' Sarah asked.

'Eh...no I'll suffer through Brendan and Ian's tutelage.' Michael answered, 'seeing my own parents' memories would be too weird.'

'Too true.' Sarah agreed.

Michael felt the all too familiar jerk as his immediate surroundings faded away.

**Bantry Bay, Cork, 1795:**

Finn shuffled on the ground trying to get his body into a reasonably comfortable position.

'Stay still.' James hissed.

'I have been staying still. We've been here for three nights and nothing yet.' Finn hissed back.

'They said the weapons shipment would be here, it's being escorted by some of our French brothers. They could've run into an English squadron or being held up by a storm you don't know.' James scolded.

Finn settled back down under a bush overlooking the beach waiting for the light of a lantern of a ship to appear on the dark horizon. He didn't allow himself to relax, beside him James was tense and alert. In the past few months the British had brought in new troops to make up for the losses they were incurring through guerrilla action and desertions. These new 'fensibles' as they were called from Scotland and England were vicious men raping and destroying property everywhere they were deployed. Their deployment had increased tensions across the country and the Assassins had been kept busy trying to keep violence to a minimum.

'Here we go.' James said.

Finn's head popped up, spotting the faint glimmer of a lantern on the horizon. The lantern's glow grew stronger as the ship drew closer to the shore. James and Finn moved out from their position, crossed a small dirt road and made their way down a small hill to the beach. More men were emerging from the area around the beach to help with the unloading and loading of the weapons. Finn kept his hand on his pistol as he watched the ship drop anchor and dispatch two small row boats filled with boxes. Carts were rolled from the road to the beach.

'Keep an eye out.' James ordered Finn.

Men moved about nervously handling their weapons. Finn shared their nerves something felt very wrong here it was too easy. Slowly but surely the rowboats drew closer to the shore each had two men abroad and boxes filled with ammunition and muskets.

'Ahoy there.' James called.

One of the men on the lead boat waved as he dragged the rowboat further ashore. James' men scrambled to empty the boat as quickly as they could and load the carts they had brought.

'Hello my friends.' The Frenchman greeted James and Finn.

'It's good to see you again Paul.' James smiled.

'I only wish it were under better circumstances.' Paul replied.

'Aye, how're things on the continent?' James asked.

Paul looked around suspiciously for a moment.

'Things were quite bad under the committee; our brotherhood was stretched beyond breaking point trying to keep the violence under control. We failed, the slaughter that they unleashed, under Templar guidance of course was horrendous.' Paul growled, 'We managed to overthrow them, our directory is our hope for the future. Although it already has shown itself to be susceptible to corruption; we do what we can to minimize Templar influence but it is hard.' Paul finished.

'Anything worthwhile generally is.' James answered.

Paul nodded sadly.

'The disease that is the Templars must be wiped out wherever it is found. We nearly had them in the 1300's.' Paul reminisced happily.

'They're like cockroaches the burrow their way in so deep and cleverly it's impossible to get them all.' James said.

The rowboats pulled away again to receive another shipment of weapons. Finn shuffled nervously scanning the surrounding countryside. The wind blew through the tops of the trees, the waves gushed against the starlit shore, men stood close to the half loaded carts. Finn spotted the glint of a bayonet near the dirt road before the crack of a musket ripped through the night. A man standing to Finn's left fell a bullet hole in his chest.

'Fensibles.' James spat crouching and turning.

Men grabbed guns from the carts and loaded them as Finn took out his sword and pistol searching for a target.

'They've caught us in the open, where were our lookouts?' Paul roared.

The ambush had devolved into a full on fire fight, Irish men and Assassins had taken cover behind the carts firing at the British fensibles behind a low wall overlooking the beach.

'We're going to get cut to pieces here.' James yelled ducking behind one of the carts as a man fell with a hole in his head beside him.

'How many are there?' Paul asked.

'About twenty I think.' Finn answered firing and watching a man go down, 'make that nineteen.'

'We need to get off this beach.' Paul said.

'Can you get your men on the ship to use their cannon?' James asked as he loaded his weapon.

'And bring down the whole British Navy on us?!' Paul asked incredulously.

'We've to make the weapons get through.' Finn growled calculating quickly.

'Forget the weapons we need to get out of here.' James yelled.

'Cover me.' Finn ordered turning to those nearest him.

'What are you...?' James began watching in disbelief as Finn sprinted towards the far end of the beach.

A hail of musket fire followed him tearing up the sand as he went.

'Is he leaving us?' Paul asked in disbelief.

Finn banked on two things to allow his otherwise suicidal plan to work. The natural inaccuracy of muskets and the poor standard of training fensibles were given. Finn ran until his lungs and legs burned turning a corner into a rocky outcrop under the road over the beach and hidden from the British soldiers on the road. He climbed the hill quickly, and checked his weapons. Finn left the road and into the woods disappearing into the undergrowth.

'Where'd that fucking rebel go?' Finn spotted three British troops skulk down the road weapons raised.

'See that bastard run?' Another snickered.

Finn quickly shimmied up a nearby tree overlooking the road and waited as the Fensibles passed. Finn fought his impatience still hearing the exchange of fire a little down the road.

Finn leapt from his hiding place. Finn impaled one Fensible with his hidden blade and another with his sword; neither had time to scream. The third tried to fire but was too close to Finn who dragged the barrel of the musket away from his body and brought his sword down cutting through the Fensibles arm partially severing it. The man erupted in a blood curdling scream of agony which was ended by Finn driving his hidden blade into the man's throat.

Finn picked up both the loaded muskets and started walking down the road. A dozen men lay hidden behind the wall firing occasionally. They were dishevelled looking and ill trained; Finn smiled raising both muskets which he had tucked under his arms and fired killing two of the men nearest him. The others looked up shocked they were being attacked from another angle. Finn threw down his muskets drew his pistol and fired killing a third, two more died with fire coming from the beach. The three furthest from Finn raised their muskets to fire at him. Finn lunged forward grabbing another Fensible who had been desperately trying to load his weapon plunging his hidden blade into the man's back and using him as a human shield. Dropping the dead weight Finn moved forward drawing his sword again throwing aside the thrust of a bayonet from one man and hacking him down. The rebels on the beach started to advance up the small hill. The five remaining Fensibles including their officer spread out and surrounded Finn. Finn could sense their hesitation and terror. Two lunged Finn stepped back blocking down both bayonets and driving forward with his sword slicing open the chest of one attacker. The officer raised his pistol as Finn grabbed the second man who had lunged forward and grabbed him. The man's body went limp as the pistol ball tore through his chest Finn dropped him and turned blocking a third bayonet and stabbing with his sword tearing into the guts of the man wielding it. The officer raised his sword to stab Finn, who distracted by his previous victim didn't turn in time. Before the blade met flesh the officer fell missing most of the back of his head.

'That was incredible.' Paul said impressed.

The rebels grabbed the last surviving Fensible and dragged him to the beach.

'Thank you.' Finn said shortly.

'You could've died! How did you do that? Don't do that again you'll get yourself killed.' James said switching between awe and anger.

'I'm already dead.' Finn said grimy wiping blood from his blades and turning to help finish the unloading of the weapons.


	27. Chapter 27

**Hello everyone, because everyone has been so supportive with their views and reviews and the fact I've been a little late this week with my chapter here's a second one. Thanks to everyone Will Zona in particular for viewing. The events here coincides with the French Revolution a lot of people don't know that separating Ireland from Britain by supporting Irish rebels was a huge part of the French strategy for defeating Britain. Napoleon Bonaparte, one of the greatest generals in history himself said, 'if we can separate Ireland from Britain, Britain will forever be reduced to the status of a second rate power.' Why more isn't made of this I don't know. Thanks again everyone. **

Finn and James escorted the carts full of weaponry north; detachments of men broke off heading in different directions taking some of the weapons with them. By the time they got to Clonmel it was just Finn and James who remained with a far lighter cart. A number of their men took the remaining weapons to be stashed around the town in safe houses.

'This is for you.' James said handing Finn a pistol from one of the remaining boxes.

Finn looked at it; the pistol did not look like anything special.

'The barrel is rifled, it is vastly more accurate than the one you have been using and will be more accurate than anything our enemies will have.' James explained.

Finn nodded his thanks tucking the pistol into his belt.

'You've done well these past few months, you should be proud of yourself.' James continued.

'We still have a lot to do and I am no closer to killing the man responsible for taking my family away from me.' Finn said.

'We will get him, you have me word, to attempt to kill him now would be suicide.' James assured Finn.

Finn grunted and walked towards the safe house as James shook his head watching Finn go.

Days and weeks passed quickly as Finn dived into training once more. Endless rounds of sparring, climbing and musket training hardened him further. When he woke each morning exhausted and weary memories of his family, how they had died and the burning hatred of the man who had taken them from him spurred him on.

As well as his skills with a musket and blade he sharpened his mind reading. The gift of literacy James had imparted on him was one of the most useful Finn had been given. He could disappear for hours into another world of a book. Forgetting his pain and anger for a few, brief happy hours. He read widely politics, philosophy, history and the great works of literature. The more he learned the more he saw how corrupt and false the system by which his people were governed by. How he hated the British and all monarchs who demanded power and loyalty merely by virtue of their birth. He listened eagerly for news from France of the revolution there. He yearned to be closer to those who were trying to bring it to Ireland.

Every now and then James would bring him the name of a target, a man, and sometimes a woman who profited from the misery heaped upon the people. These he killed without hesitation or mercy but nonetheless treated them with respect in their final moments. Finn waited for the day when it would be Fitzgerald who would die by his blade.

'Finn!' James called one dull grey afternoon.

'Mmm?' Finn asked entering the front room of the safe house James used as an office. Finn had been in the back reading when he had been called.

'We have a problem with a merchant in Cork city we need dealt with. He is profiteering from the war with France buying the produce of the land cheap and selling them on at an exorbitant price.' James explained.

'He will die.' Finn promised getting ready to leave.

Finn rode slowly please into the city from the north. The number of Fensible and red coat patrols increase as he drew closer as did the number of wretched starving and displaced people with a look of wraithish confused misery on their faces. Finn rode through Shandon Street deeper into the valley in which the city was situated making his way over the north side of the river tying his horse against a post on George Street and entering a tavern.

Finn spotted four soldiers sitting in the far corner as he entered. He noticed that the others in the tavern gave them a wide berth and tried to avoid making eye contact as the soldiers drank heavily and roared and shouted boisterously amongst themselves.

Ordering a drink Finn sat at the bar and waited. One of the soldiers stumbled drunkenly towards the bar itself and slurred an order for more ale and whiskey.

'I think you and your friends have had enough.' The bar man said warily.

'Who the fuck are you to say whether we've had enough or not.' The soldier growled.

'The owner and proprietor of this establishment.' The barman responded with as much dignity and authority as possible.

'Listen hear you fucking Irish worm, we'll drink as much we like.' The soldier said lunging across the bar and dragging the owner across it. The soldier drew a knife and waved it in the barman's face.

A look of terror and resignation crossed the barman's face. Before the soldier could carry out whatever it was he was planning on doing the barman felt the soldiers grip loosen, his eyes glazed and he dropped his knife. The soldier dropped to the floor dead. His friends stood up they were mired in a fog of drunken confusion and looked at the barman who seemed terrified and utterly bewildered.

Their gaze went to the tall stranger who had been standing beside them. The lead man spotted a blood stained silver blade disappear into his sleeve.

'That bastard killed Ralph.' He said enraged.

Finn smiled as he turned to face the soldiers. All three rushed him; drunken and getting in each other's way they were easy kills for Finn. The first one lunged at Finn both hands extended as if to strangle him. Finn stepped back kicking the man in the groin; he went down rolling on the ground vomited and howled. The second grabbed a nearly empty whiskey bottle smashed it and attempted to slash Finn across the face. Finn calmly blocked the blow and drove his hidden blade into the man's gut and tore his stomach open. The third man slashed at Finn with a knife, Finn side stepped the swipe grabbing the man's arm which held the knife putting pressure on the elbow until he heard a pop and the man screamed and smashed the man's head open against the bar.

Finn leaned down towards the first man he had kicked in the groin drew the man's head back and drove his hidden blade into the carotid artery. The man bled out in seconds choking on his blood.

'Th..thank you.' The barman asked confused and terrified.

'Get rid of the bodies as soon as possible.' Finn ordered.

The barman nodded.

'That was quite something.' A thin shabbily dressed man smiled approaching Finn.

Finn tensed ready to spring his hidden blades.

'Peace brother don't you know everything is permitted?' The man smiled as the look of wary recognition Finn gave at part of the creed.

'Who are you?' Finn asked.

'Come here's not the place, some of my men will clean up this mess. Patrick good day.' The man said bidding farewell to the barman who nodded.


	28. Chapter 28

Three tall and thin men entered the bar as Finn and the stranger left. They were dressed in a similar way to the man from the bar and nodded as he passed.

'The clean-up crew.' The man smiled.

'Who are you?' Finn repeated.

'Ciarán Shaughnessy.' The man smiled.

'You're head of the Assassins here?' Finn asked.

'That and the Thieves guild.' Ciarán answered, 'James sent word you'd be coming and asked that we aid you as much as possible.'

'Tell me where my target is and let's be done with it.' Finn asked impatiently.

'Calm down, James also asked us to pass on some more skills to you. Have you any idea how to pick pocket's or locks?' Ciarán inquired.

'No.' Finn replied tightly.

'Well then your arsenal is quite incomplete.' Ciarán smiled.

'Well at least tell me the man's name.' Finn pressed.

'Henry De Lacey.' Ciarán revealed.

'De Lacey?' Finn asked curious at the name.

'Most of the major Merchant families here are French protestant that fled from Louis XIV's purges. Things are quite difficult here at the moment trade with the continent is interrupted and everything the ordinary people produce goes towards the war effort. We are forced to sell low and buy high.' Ciarán growled.

'The Templars are responsible?' Finn asked.

'Partly, some are just opportunists.' Ciarán replied, 'we need to make sure the these opportunists and profiteers are removed, the families who are producing food and other war materials are given a fair price and to send a message that taking advantage of the people in this way will not be tolerated.'

'Tell me what to do.' Finn said wearily.

'There are two men who need to die.' Ciarán said serious now 'John Connell is a major land owner north of here. Over the past few years has squeezed out smaller land owners and absorbed their holdings forcing countless families into poverty raised his prices and is slowly gaining a monopoly. David Fitzpatrick, another merchant, is De Lacey's main lieutenant he supervises shipments of food, clothing and equipment going out of the harbour here. Unfortunately he has a habit of skimming a little off the top which he sells on at a vastly inflated price. When the goods reach England and they see shortages it's the ordinary farmers and workers here who suffer, less wages and inflated prices for basic necessities.'

'How does that happen?' Finn asked angrily.

'Shit rolls downhill, merchants and major landowners can defend themselves against accusations of what amounts to embezzlement. The ordinary people can't so therefore they suffer.' Ciarán explained sadly.

As they walked through the rain soaked streets Finn watched a small group of soldiers march up to a near empty stall.

'Who gave you permission to set up here?' One soldier demanded of the stalls proprietor.

'I've always sold my wares here, I haven't got that much left to sell...'The proprietor began.

'You need a licence to sell here.' The soldier ordered.

'What? I've never needed one before.' The proprietor said shocked.

'The law has been changed.' The soldier growled.

'Wait! No please!' The man pleaded as the soldiers reduced to setting his stall to matchwood and carried off his wares.

Finn growled and made to draw his pistol.

'No.' Ciarán growled.

'Why in the hell not?' Finn spat.

The Templars control this city we can't strike like that, we wouldn't get another ten foot before being gunned down by Templar agents.' Ciarán hissed.

'Fuck them let them try.' Finn threatened advancing again towards the soldiers who were laughing and carrying off the pitiful amount of food the stall owner had.

'Please don't.' Ciarán pleaded grabbing Finns arm.

Finn turned half tempted to strike the thief.

'Why was I allowed to kill those in the bar?' Finn argued.

'They were drunk, it was in a tavern which is one of our safe houses and no one will report who did it. Those soldiers will go missing and be assumed to have gone A.W.O.L. Killing soldiers in a public street in broad daylight is different.' Ciarán reasoned.

'How are we to break the hold of the Templars if we do not strike against those who prop them up.' Finn countered.

'There are better ways of undermining Templar authority than getting into street fights and bar brawls.' Ciarán answered sardonically 'Take out one true Templar and you can do more damage than killing a hundred grunts.'

'Please point me in their direction.' Finn asked with a hint of sarcasm.

'Ah ah.' Ciarán taunted, 'we've things to teach you first.'

Finn growled audibly.

Finn leapt across a alley between two houses and just managed to grab hold of the next houses roof. He grunted as he pulled himself up.

'You're going to have to do better than that.' A thief said helping Finn up.

'I'm doing my best Cathal.' Finn said huffing.

'Your best will get you killed.' Cathal said taking off across the roofs again.

Finn set off after him once more. For the past week he had been improving his climbing and free running abilities under the tutelage of Ciarán and his younger brother and lieutenant Cathal. They clattered over tile roofs trying to go as fast as they could without losing their balance. Cathal had drilled awareness of your surroundings into Finn for the past few days; Finn had been taught to push as body as hard as he could for short periods at extreme speed exhausting him in a new way. Finn kept his gaze on Cathal who rocketed ahead of him, they were running mostly on three and four storey buildings high enough to be out of sight of those below but low enough that you probably wouldn't die if you fell. Cathal had stressed the 'probably wouldn't' part. As Finn watched Cathal reached the end of a row of houses, glanced back at Finn, smiled and threw himself off the building.

Finn's eyes widened and he sped up shocked at what had just happened. He looked down over the edge of the end building to see Cathal pull himself out of a hay cart and brush himself off wearing a challenging smile on his face as he looked up at Finn. Finn shook his head in disbelief. Cathal motioned with his hands calling Finn down.

Finn growled 'Fuck it,' he thought.

Finn stepped back and jumped off the roof; he felt the air rush against him accepting his impending death before landing with a soft thump in the hay cart.

'That was excellent.' Cathal said grinning as Finn extracted himself from the hay cart and began picking strands of hay from his clothes. Finn gave him a withering look that resulted in more laughter from Cathal.

'What the hell are you two up to?!' A voice yelled.

Both Assassins looked up to see and elderly farmer approaching them as fast as a limp would allow.

'Better get going.' Cathal laughed setting off at a sprint leaving an exhausted Finn to follow.


	29. Chapter 29

Finn ducked into an alley as his target glanced behind him along the street. Finn watched his target survey the crowd before moving on. This man was good, well trained and watchful. Finn moved out into the crowd blending with a group of innocent people going about their daily business. Finn's target stopped again inspecting a shop window. Finn dodged to the side in between three people standing at a stall.

The mission was to pick the man's pocket and steal a list of Templar informers and agents working in the city. There should be at least nine names on the list; nine men and women who had been infiltrating and interrupting United Irish and Assassin work in the city. Finns target moved off again strolling at a leisurely pace through the crowd. Finn moved closer using the crowd to hide himself as he had been taught. Finn was now separated by a few steps from his target who seemed blissfully unaware he was being followed. Finn's hand extended to the pocket of the man's great coat. Finn dipped his hand into the pocket quickly feeling a sheet of paper, as he moved his hand out his target spun and caught Finn's hand in a vice like grip. Finns heart plummeted.

'Looks like you'll have to do better than that.' Ciarán smiled releasing his students arm.

'I thought I had it.' Finn grumbled falling into step beside the master thief.

'You lingered too much.' Ciarán chastised him.

'How?' Finn asked frustrated, it was the third time that day he had been caught.

'You worry too much about being caught.' Ciarán said simply.

Finn grunted as he walked.

'Try again.' Ciarán ordered.

Finn disappeared into the crowd again giving Ciarán a head start. Finn blended into the crowd, vanishing amongst a group of dishevelled looking workmen. Every time Finn drew close to Ciarán, Ciarán would seem to nearly turn, almost aware Finn was close to him. Finn grunted quietly in frustration. He looked up at the roofs of the stores, taverns and houses along the street and an idea struck him. Finn ducked down an alley and scurried up the side of the wall. The old brick and stone of the buildings was worn and damaged providing no shortage of hand and foot holds. Finn crouched low and surveyed the street below, taking great satisfaction in spotting Ciarán turn and inspect the street, a confused look crossing his face when he didn't spot Finn. Ciarán walked on and moved to the side of the street out of the main throng of the crowd and stood in an alley clearly waiting for Finn to pass. Finn scuttled along the roofs and climbed down the back of one house and into the alley. Silently he crept behind Ciarán, his feet making no noise as he moved forward slowly and carefully barely drawing breath. Finn's hand dipped into Ciarán's pocket and extracted the slip of paper, Finn retreated slowly back through the alley and sped off once he had moved behind the house again.

'Crafty fecker!' Ciarán yelled amused when he found Finn in the bar they had originally met sipping a pint.

Finn let a small satisfied smile cross his lips.

'It was very well done, 'Ciarán praised, 'I think you're ready to try it for real.'

'For real?' Finn asked sceptically.

'We've become aware that our organisation here has become compromised. Operations of ours have been disrupted and prevented, our men and women killed and captured, weapons shipments captured and safe houses destroyed. In short we have a rat.' Ciarán explained.

Finn scowled as he looked at Ciarán.

'There is a Templar courier moving messages tonight out of the city, we believe one of the documents he is carrying holds the name of the rat. We need you to steal it, bring it to me and we'll deal with the rat.' Ciarán ordered.

'It will be done.' Finn promised draining his pint and getting up to leave.

Finn tracked the courier threw the dark cobbled streets, the light shining from the windows of taverns and what few street lamps there were cast a ghostly glow through the late night fog. The fog horn of a ship pulling out of the harbour bellowed through the city. Finn watched the darkly clad courier march quickly through the streets. Finn tensed his hand and felt his hidden blade click before retracting it again. Unfortunately his orders were quite clear, steal the document, leave the courier alive. The courier walked down a street off to Finns right. Finn glanced around quickly, ducking into an alley and coming out on the street the courier was walking through. A well-to-do couple walked slowly arm in arm down the street, a carriage trundled by carrying several men laughing heartily. Finn walked casually along, acting as if he had no specific destination, the courier was clearly not Templar trained, maybe just a simple man who thought he was working for some businessmen. Finn gradually increased his pace, pacing silently until he was right behind the courier; Finn slipped his hand into the man's pocket and quickly and quietly extracted a small bundle of letters before ducking into another alley and out of sight.

Finn found Ciarán across the city outside one of the houses that doubled as a brothel. He was speaking to a tall skinny man who Ciarán dismissed when he spotted Finn. Finn handed the letters to Ciarán who read each one quickly.

'Patrick Sweeney.' Ciarán growled, crushing the letter and scowling.

'Friend of yours?' Finn asked sardonically.

'One of our thieves.' Ciarán replied tightly, 'wait here.'

Ciarán disappeared into the brothel and emerged a moment later.

'I've sent for him. We'll meet him near the docks' Ciarán said.

'Do you think he'll actually turn up?' Finn asked.

'He'd be very foolish not to. He has no idea we're onto him.' Ciarán elaborated starting to walk.

Finn and Ciarán walked north through the city. As the night went on it became quieter, Finn, born and raised in the countryside found it bizarrely peaceful. They came to the docklands north east of the brothel walking along the quay and into the warehouse district.

'I'll kill him; I want you to distract him long enough for me to get into position.' Ciarán explained.

'Why can't I kill him?' Finn asked dispassionately.

'My man, my responsibility.' Ciarán said.

Finn nodded turning a corner between two warehouses as Ciarán scurried up the warehouse to Finns left. Finn stood waiting for the target, absentmindedly playing with his hidden blade. Finn heard footsteps approaching and saw a figure come around the corner.

'What's the news?' Patrick asked.

Finn's nostrils flared, the man stank, his hair sat on his head in ragged lumps, he was lanky and dishevelled looking with a nose that looked like it had been broken several times. His teeth, those that remained of them, were black and his eyes had sunken into his head from either lack of sleep or alcohol.

'Why was I called here?' Patrick demanded.

Finn growled and restrained himself from engaging his hidden blade.

A look of dawning comprehension crossed Patricks face as he backed away from Finn who advanced on him. Patrick turned to run; he got three steps before a figure dropped from the roof. Finn was reminded sharply of an insect being crushed as Ciarán flattened Patrick. Patrick grunted as Ciarán's hidden blade pierced his neck killing him quickly.

Finn stood impressed at such accurate and ruthless killing.

'Rest in Peace you traitorous bastard.' Ciarán spat as he and Finn carried Patrick's body to the water's edge and dumped him.


End file.
